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from  the  collection  of 
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THE  WORLDS 
GREAT  CLASSICS 


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THE -COLONIAL  PRESS 

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FAMOUS   PAINTINGS   FROM   THE   PARIS  SALON. 

MOORISH 

inn 


ROMAl 


A   HAREM  IN  GRANADA, 

Photogravure   from  the  original  painting  by  Edouard  Ricbter,  exhibited  in 
Paris  Salon  of  188). 

(i 


EPIPHANH 


FIFTH;AV 


" 


MOORISH 
LITERATURE 


COMPRISING 

ROMANTIC  BALLADS, 

TALES  OF   THE  BERBERS, 

STORIES  OF  THE  KABYLIE,  FOLK-LORE 

AND 

NATIONAL   TRADITIONS 

TRANSLATED   INTO   ENGLISH  FOR  THE   FIRST  TIME 

WITH   A  SPECIAL   INTRODUCTION  BY 


EPIPHANIUS   WILSON,  A.M. 


COPYRIGHT,  1901, 
BY  THE  COLONIAL  PRESS. 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION 

THE  Moorish  ballads  which  appear  in  this  volume  are 
selected  from  a  unique  department  of  European  liter- 
ature.   They  are  found  in  the  Spanish  language,  but 
their  character  is  oriental;  their  inspiration  comes  from  the 
Mahometan  conquerors  of  northern  Africa,  and  while  they 
exhibit  a  blending  of  Spanish  earnestness  and  chivalry  with 
the  wild  and  dashing  spirit  of  the  Arab,  they  present  a  type 
of  literature  which  is  quite  unparalleled  in  the  Latin  and  Teu- 
tonic countries  of  the  Mediterranean  basin. 

Spain  is  especially  rich  in  ballad  literature,  infinitely  richer 
than  any  other  civilized  nation.  These  ballads  take  various 
forms.  By  Cervantes  and  his  countrymen  they  are  styled 
romances,  and  the  romance  generally  consists  in  a  poem  which 
describes  the  character,  sufferings,  or  exploits  of  a  single  indi- 
vidual. The  language  is  simple;  the  versification,  often  art- 
less though  melodious,  is  seldom  elaborated  into  complexity 
of  rhyme.  But  the  heroic  Moor  is  set  before  us  in  the  most 
vivid  colors.  The  hues  and  material  of  his  cloak,  his  housings, 
his  caftan,  and  his  plumes  are  given,  and  quite  a  vocabulary  is 
exhausted  in  depicting  the  color,  sex,  and  breed  of  his  war- 
horse.  His  weapons,  lance,  scimitar,  and  corslet  of  steel  are 
dwelt  upon  with  enthusiasm.  He  is  as  brave  as  Mars,  and 
as  comely  as  Adonis.  Sometimes  he  dashes  into  a  bull-ring 
and  slays  wild  creatures  in  the  sight  of  fair  ladies  and  envious 
men.  He  throws  his  lance  of  cane,  which  is  filled  with  sand, 
so  high  that  it  vanishes  in  the  clouds.  He  is  ready  to  strike 
down,  in  his  own  house,  the  Christian  who  has  taken  from 
him  and  wedded  the  lady  of  his  choice.  He  is  almost  always 
in  love  with  some  lady  who  is  unkind  and  cold,  and  for  her  he 
wanders  at  times  in  dark  array,  expressing  his  sombre  mood 
in  the  device  and  motto  which  he  paints  upon  his  shield.  Some 
of  the  ballads  picture  love  more  fortunate  in  the  most  charm- 


iv  SPECIAL   INTRODUCTION 

ing  manner,  and  the  dark  tortures  of  jealousy  are  powerfully 
described  in  others.  The  devotion  of  the  Moor  to  his  lady 
is  scarcely  caricatured  in  the  mocking  language  of  Cervantes, 
and  is  not  exceeded  by  anything  to  be  found  in  the  history  of 
French  chivalry.  But  the  god  of  these  ballads  is  Allah,  and 
they  sometimes  reveal  a  trace  of  ferocity  which  seems  to  be  de- 
rived from  religious  fanaticism.  Nor  can  the  reader  fail  to  be 
struck  by  the  profound  pathos  which  many  of  them  express  so 
well.  The  dirges  are  supremely  beautiful,  their  language 
simple  and  direct,  but  perfect  in  descriptive  touches  and  in  the 
cadence  of  the  reiterated  burden. 

Beside  the  ballads  of  warlike  and  amorous  adventures, 
there  are  sea-songs,  songs  of  captivity,  and  songs  of  the  galley 
slave.  The  Spanish  Moor  is  seized  by  some  African  pirate 
and  carried  away  to  toil  in  the  mill  of  his  master  on  some 
foreign  shore,  or  he  is  chained  to  the  rowing-bench  of  the 
Berber  galley,  thence  to  be  taken  and  sold  when  the  voyage  is 
over  to  some  master  who  leaves  him  to  weep  in  solitary  toil 
in  the  farm  or  garden.  Sometimes  he  wins  the  love  of  his 
mistress,  who  releases  him  and  flies  in  his  company. 

All  these  ballads  have  vivid  descriptions  of  scenery.  The 
towers  of  Baeza,  the  walls  of  Granada,  the  green  vegas  that 
spread  outside  every  city,  the  valley  of  the  Guadalquivir,  and 
the  rushing  waters  of  the  Tagus,  the  high  cliffs  of  Cadiz,  the 
Pillars  of  Hercules,  and  the  blue  waves  of  the  Mediterranean 
make  a  life-like  background  to  every  incident.  In  the  cities 
the  ladies  throng  the  balconies  of  curling  iron-work  or  crowd 
the  plaza  where  the  joust  or  bull-fight  is  to  be  witnessed,  or 
steal  at  nightfall  to  the  edge  of  the  vega  to  meet  a  lover,  and 
sometimes  to  die  in  his  arms  at  the  hands  of  bandits. 

There  is  a  dramatic  power  in  these  ballads  which  is  one  of 
their  most  remarkable  features.  They  are  sometimes  mere 
sketches,  but  oftener  the  story  is  told  with  consummate  art,  with 
strict  economy  of  word  and  phrase,  and  the  denouement  comes 
with  a  point  and  power  which  show  that  the  Moorish  minstrel 
was  an  artist  of  no  mean  skill  and  address. 

The  authors  of  the  Moorish  romances,  songs,  and  ballads  are 
unknown.  They  have  probably  assumed  their  present  literary 
form  after  being  part  of  the  repertoire  of  successive  minstrels, 
and  some  of  the  incidents  appear  in  more  than  one  version. 


SPECIAL   INTRODUCTION  v 

The  most  ancient  of  them  are  often  the  shortest,  but  they  be- 
long to  the  period  when  southern  Spain  under  Mahometan 
rule  was  at  the  height  of  its  prosperity,  and  Arabian  learning, 
art,  and  literature  made  her  rank  among  the  first  countries 
in  Europe.  The  peninsula  was  conquered  by  the  Moors  in  the 
caliphate  of  Walid  I,  705-715  A.D.,  and  the  independent 
dynasty  of  the  Ommiades  was  founded  by  Abderrhaman  at 
Granada  in  755  A.D.  It  was  from  this  latter  date  that  the 
Spanish  Moors  began  to  assume  that  special  character  in  lan- 
guage, manners,  and  chivalric  enthusiasm  which  is  represented 
in  the  present  ballads;  the  spirit  of  Christian  knighthood  is 
here  seen  blended  with  Arabian  passion,  impetuosity,  and  im- 
pulsiveness, and  the  Spanish  language  has  supplanted,  even 
among  Mahometan  poets,  the  oriental  idiom.  We  may  roughly 
estimate  the  period  in  which  the  Moorish  romance  flourished 
as  comprised  in  the  years  between  1 100  and  1600  A.D. 

The  term  Moorish  is  somewhat  indefinite,  and  is  used  in 
Spanish  history  as  a  synonym  of  Saracen  or  Mahometan.  It 
cannot  be  called  a  national  appellation,  though  originally  in 
the  Augustan  age  it  was  applied  to  the  dwellers  in  Mauretania, 
with  whom  the  Romans  had  first  come  in  contact  when  the 
war  with  Hannibal  was  transferred  from  Italy  and  Spain  to 
Africa.  In  the  present  day,  it  may  be  applied  to  all  the  races 
of  northwestern  Africa  who  have  accepted  Mahometanism ; 
in  which  case  it  would  include  the  aborigines  of  that  region, 
who  live  not  on  the  coast  and  in  towns,  but  in  the  Atlas 
Mountain  and  the  Sahara  Desert.  While  these  races,  all  Ber- 
bers under  different  local  names,  are  Mussulmans  in  pro- 
fession, they  are  not  so  highly  civilized  as  their  co-religionists 
who  people  the  coast  of  the  Mediterranean.  They  live  a  tribal 
life,  and  are  blood-thirsty  and  predatory.  They  are  of  course 
mixed  in  race  with  the  Arabians,  but  they  are  separate  in  their 
life  and  institutions,  and  they  possess  no  written  literature. 
Their  oral  literature  is,  however,  abundant,  though  it  is  only 
within  quite  recent  years  that  it  has  become  known  to  America 
and  Europe.  The  present  collection  of  tales  and  fables  is  the 
first  which  has  hitherto  been  made  in  the  English  language. 
The  learned  men  who  collected  the  tales  of  the  Berbers  and 
Kabyles  (who  are  identical  in  ethnical  origin)  underwent 
many  hardships  in  gathering  from  half-savage  lips  the  material 


vi  SPECIAL    INTRODUCTION 

for  their  volume.  They  were  forced  to  live  among  the  wild 
tribesmen,  join  their  nomad  life,  sit  at  their  feasts,  and  watch 
with  them  round  their  camp-fire,  while  it  was  with  difficulty 
they  transferred  to  writing  the  syllables  of  a  barbarous  tongue. 
The  memory  of  the  Berber  story-teller  seems  to  be  incredibly 
capacious  and  retentive,  and  the  tales  were  recited  over  and 
over  again  without  a  variation.  As  is  to  be  expected  these  tales 
are  very  varied,  and  many  of  them  are  of  a  didactic,  if  not 
ethical,  cast.  They  are  instructive  as  revealing  the  social  life 
and  character  of  these  mountain  and  desert  tribes. 

We  find  the  spirit  of  the  vendetta  pervading  these  tales 
with  more  than  Corsican  bitterness  and  unreasoning  cruelty, 
every  man  being  allowed  to  revenge  himself  by  taking  the 
life  or  property  of  another.  This  private  and  personal  war- 
fare has  done  more  than  anything  else  to  check  the  advance 
in  civilization  of  these  tribesmen.  The  Berbers  and  Kabyles 
are  fanatical  Mahometans  and  look  upon  Christians  and 
Jews  as  dogs  and  outcasts.  It  is  considered  honorable  to  cheat, 
rob,  or  deceive  by  lies  one  who  does  not  worship  Allah.  The 
tales  illustrate,  moreover,  the  degraded  position  of  women. 
A  wife  is  literally  a  chattel,  not  only  to  be  bought,  but  to  be 
sold  also,  and  to  be  treated  in  every  respect  as  man's  inferior — 
a  mere  slave  or  beast  of  burden.  Yet  the  tribesmen  are  pro- 
foundly superstitious,  and  hold  in  great  dread  the  evil  spirits 
who  they  think  surround  them  and  to  whom  they  attribute 
bodily  and  mental  ills.  An  idiot  is  one  who  is  possessed  by  a 
wicked  demon,  and  is  to  be  feared  accordingly. 

There  are  found  current  among  them  a  vast  number  of  fairy 
tales,  such  as  equal  in  wildness  and  horror  the  strangest  in- 
ventions of  oriental  imagination.  Their  tales  of  ogres  and 
ogresses  are  unsoftened  by  any  of  that  playfulness  and  bon- 
homie which  give  such  undying  charm  to  the  "  Thousand 
and  One  Nights."  The  element  of  the  miraculous  takes  many 
original  forms  in  their  popular  tales,  and  they  have  more  than 
their  share  of  the  folk-lore  legends  and  traditions  such  as 
Herodotus  loved  to  collect.  It  was  said  of  old  that  something 
new  was  always  coming  out  of  Africa,  and  certainly  the  con- 
tribution which  the  Berbers  and  Kabyles  have  made  to  the  fund 
of  wonder-stories  in  the  world  may  be  looked  upon  as  new,  in 
more  than  one  sense.  It  is  new,  not  only  because  it  is  novel 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION  vii 

and  unexpected,  but  because  it  is  fresh,  original  and  highly 
interesting. 

The  fables  of  these  tribes  are  very  abundant  and  very 
curious.  The  great  hero  of  the  animal  fable  in  Europe  has 
always  been  the  fox,  whose  cunning,  greed,  and  duplicity  are 
immortalized  in  the  finest  fable  the  world's  literature  possesses. 
The  fables  of  northwest  Africa  employ  the  jackal  instead  of 
Reynard,  whose  place  the  sycophant  of  the  lion  not  inaptly  fills. 

There  are  a  number  of  men  among  the  Kabyles  and  other 
Berber  tribes  who  make  a  profession  of  reciting  poems,  tales, 
and  proverbs,  and  travel  from  one  village  or  encampment  to 
another  in  search  of  an  audience.  They  know  the  national 
traditions,  the  heroic  legends,  and  warlike  adventures  that  per- 
tain to  each  community,  and  are  honored  and  welcomed 
wherever  they  go.  It  was  from  these  men  that  the  various 
narratives  contained  in  this  collection  were  obtained,  and  the 
translation  of  them  has  engaged  the  talents  and  labors  of  some 
of  the  world's  foremost  oriental  scholars. 


CONTENTS 

MOORISH  BALLADS  PAGE 

Fatima's  Love 3 

The  Braggart  Rebuked 4 

The  Admiral's  Farewell 6 

Moriana  and  Galvan 8 

The  Bereaved  Father 10 

The  Warden  of  Molina 1 1 

The  Loves  of  Boabdil  and  Vindaraja 14 

The  Infanta  Sevilla  and  Peranguelos 20 

Celin's  Farewell 21 

Celin's  Return 23 

Baza  Revisited 25 

Captive  Zara 27 

The  Jealous  King 29 

The  Lovers  of  Antequera 33 

Tarfe's  Truce 35 

The  Two  Moorish  Knights 39 

The  King's  Decision 43 

Almanzar  and  Bobalias 44 

The  Moorish  Infanta  and  Alfonzo  Ramos 45 

The  Bull-fight  of  Zulema. 46 

The  Renegade 49 

The  Tower  of  Gold 50 

The  Dirge  for  Aliatar. 52 

The  Ship  of  Zara 54 

Hamete  Ali 56 

Zaide's  Love 59 

Zaida's  Jealousy 61 

Zaida  of  Toledo 63 

Zaide  Rebuked 65 

Zaida's  Inconstancy 67 

Zaide's  Desolation 68 

Zaida's  Lament 69 

Zaida's  Curse 71 

The  Tournament  of  Zaide ... 73 

Zaide's  Complaint ... 74 

ix 


x  CONTENTS 

MOORISH  BALLADS— Continued  PAGE 

Guhala's  Love 76 

Azarco  of  Granada 78 

Azarco  Rebuked 79 

Adelifa's  Farewell 81 

Azarco's  Farewell . . , 82 

Celinda's  Courtesy 84 

Gazul's  Despondency , 86 

Gazul  in  Love 86 

Celinda's  Inconstancy 87 

The  Bull-fight 89 

Lovers  Reconciled 90 

Call  to  Arms 92 

Gazul  Calumniated 93 

Gazul's  Despair 95 

Vengeance  of  Gazul 97 

Gazul  and  Albenzaide 100 

Gazul's  Arms 101 

The  Tournament 103 

Abunemeya's  Lament 105 

The  Despondent  Lover 107 

Love  and  Jealousy ...  108 

The  Captive  of  Toledo m 

The  Blazon  of  Abenamar 113 

Woman's  Fickleness 115 

King  Juan 117 

Abenamar's  Jealousy 119 

Adelifa's  Jealousy 120 

Funeral  of  Abenamar. 123 

Ballad  of  Albayaldos 124 

The  Night  Raid  of  Reduan 125 

Siege  of  Jaen 127 

Death  of  Reduan 129 

The  Aged  Lover 131 

Fickleness  Rebuked 132 

The  Galley  Slave  of  Dragut 134 

The  Captive's  Lament 136 

Strike  Sail ! 138 

The  Captive's  Escape 139 

The  Spaniard  of  Oran 141 

MOORISH  ROMANCES 

The  Bull-fight  of  Gazul 145 

The  Zegri's  Bride 148 


CONTENTS  xi 

MOORISH  ROMANCES — Continued  PAGB 

The  Bridal  of  Andalla 149 

Zara's  Ear-rings 1 50 

The  Lamentation  for  Celin 152 

THE  STORY  OF  SIDI  BRAHIM  OF  MASSAT 157 

FIVE  BERBER  STORIES 

Djokhrane  and  the  Jays 169 

The  Ogre  and  the  Beautiful  Woman 169 

The  False  Vezir 170 

The  Soufi  and  the  Targul 172 

Ahmed  el  Hilalieu  and  El  Redak 176 

POEMS  OF  THE  MAGHREB 

Ali's  Answer 183 

In  Honor  of  Lalla 185 

Sayd  and  Hyzyya 187 

The  Aissaoua  in  Paris 195 

Song  of  Fatima 203 

The  City  Girl  and  the  Country  Girl 207 

POPULAR  TALES  OF  THE  BERBERS 

The  Turtle,  the  Frog,  and  the  Serpent 215 

The  Hedgehog,  the  Jackal,  and  the  Lion 216 

The  Stolen  Woman 220 

The  King,  the  Arab,  and  the  Monster 221 

The  Lion,  the  Jackal,  and  the  Man 223 

Salomon  and  the  Griffin 225 

Adventure  of  Sidi  Mahomet 226 

The  Haunted  Garden 227 

The  Woman  and  the  Fairy 227 

Hamed  ben  Ceggad 228 

The  Magic  Napkin 230 

The  Child  and  the  King  of  the  Genii 231 

The  Seven  Brothers 232 

Half-a-Cock ; 234 

Strange  Meetings 237 

The  King  and  His  Family 238 

Beddou 239 

The  Language  of  the  Beasts 241 

The  Apple  of  Youth 244 

POPULAR  TALES  OF  THE  KABYLIE 

AH  and  Ou  Ali 249 

The  Infidel  Jew 253 


MOORISH     BALLADS 

ROMANCEROS    MoRISCOS 

[Metrical   Translation  by  Epiphanius   Wilson,  A.M. 


MOORISH    BALLADS 


FATIMA'S  LOVE 

ON  the  morn  of  John  the  Baptist,  just  at  the  break  of  day, 
The  Moors   upon   Granada's  fields  streamed  out  in 
bright  array. 

Their  horses  galloped  o'er  the  sod,  their  lances  flashed  in  air, 

And  the  banners  that  their  dames  had  wrought  spread  out 
their  colors  fair. 

Their  quivers  bright  flashed  in  the  light  with  gold  and  silk 
brocade, 

And  the  Moor  who  saw  his  love  was  there  looked  best  in  the 
parade, 

And  the  Moor  who  had  no  lady  love  strove  hard  some  love 
to  gain. 

'Mong  those  who  from  Alhambra's  towers  gazed  on  that  war- 
rior train. 

There  were  two  Moorish  ladies  there  whom  love  had  smit- 
ten sore ; 

Zarifa  one,  and  Fatima  the  name  the  other  bore. 

Knit  by  warm  friendship  were  their  hearts  till,  filled  with  jeal- 
ous pain, 

Their  glances  met,  as  one  fair  knight  came  prancing  o'er  the 
plain. 

Zarifa  spoke  to  Fatima,  "  How  has  love  marred  thy  face ! 

Once  roses  bloomed  on  either  cheek,  now  lilies  take  their  place ; 

And  you,  who  once  would  talk  of  love,  now  still  and  silent  stay. 

Come,  come  unto  the  window  and  watch  the  pageant  gay ! 

Abindarraez  is  riding  by ;  his  train  is  full  in  view ; 

In  all  Granada  none  can  boast  a  choicer  retinue." 

"  It  is  not  love,  Zarifa,  that  robs  my  cheek  of  rose ; 

No  fond  and  anxious  passion  this  mournful  bosom  knows ; 

My  cheeks  are  pale  and  I  am  still  and  silent,  it  is  true, — 

For,  ah !  I  miss  my  father's  face,  whom  fierce  Alabey  slew. 

3 


4  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

And  did  I  crave  the  boon  of  love,  a  thousand  knights  were  fain 
To  fight  for  me  in  service  true  on  yonder  flowery  plain. 
And  all  the  love  I  give  to  each  to  give  me  back  again. 
And  for  Abindarraez,  whose  heart  and  valiant  might, 
You  praise  and  from  the  window  watch,  with  rapturous  de- 
light  " 

The  lady  stopped,  for  at  their  feet  knelt  down  the  well-loved 
knight. 


THE   BRAGGART   REBUKED 

"  If  thou  art  brave  in  battle's  hour 

As  thou  art  bold  in  pleasure's  rout ; 
If  thou  canst  make  the  lances  fly 
As  thou  canst  fling  thy  words  about ; 

"  If  thou  canst  in  the  vega  fight 

As  thou  the  ladies'  eyes  canst  praise ; 
And  show  on  horseback  half  the  skill 
That  marks  thee  in  the  dance's  maze ; 

"  Meet  with  the  briskness  of  the  joust 
The  challenge  of  the  deadly  lance, 
And  in  the  play  of  scimitars 
Be  sprightly  as  in  festive  dance; 

"  If  thou  art  ready  in  the  field 

As  thou  art  nimble  on  the  square ; 
And  canst  the  front  of  battle  face 
As  though  thou  flirtest  with  the  fair; 

"  If  thou  dost  don  thy  shining  mail 

As  lightly  as  thy  festive  suit, 
And  listenest  to  the  trumpet  call 
As  though  it  were  thy  lady's  lute ; 

"  And  if,  as  in  the  gamesome  hour 

Thou  flingest  round  the  rattling  reed 
Against  the  foeman's  moated  camp, 

Thou  spurrest  on  thy  thundering  steed ; 


THE   BRAGGART   REBUKED 

"  If,  when  the  foe  is  face  to  face, 

Thou  boastest  as  thou  oft  hast  done 
When  far  away  his  ranks  were  ranged, 
And  the  fierce  fight  had  not  begun ; — 

"  Go,  Zaide,  to  the  Alhambra  go, 

And  there  defend  thy  soldier  fame ; 
For  every  tongue  is  wagging  there, 
And  all,  derisive,  speak  thy  name. 

"  And  if  thou  fear  to  go  alone, 

Take  others  with  thee  to  thine  aid ; 
Thy  friends  are  ready  at  thy  beck, 
And  Zaide  need  not  be  afraid! 

"  It  is  not  in  the  palace  court, 

Amid  the  throng  of  ladies  bright, 
That  the  good  soldier,  by  his  tongue, 
Proves  himself  valorous  in  the  fight. 

"  It  is  not  there  his  hands  can  show 

What  in  the  battle  he  can  do ; 
But  where  the  shock  of  onset  tests 
The  fearless  heart,  the  iron  thew. 

"  Betake  thee  to  the  bloody  field 

And  let  thy  sword  thy  praises  sing; 
But  silence  is  most  eloquent 

Amid  the  courtiers  of  the  King." 

Thus  Tarfe  wrote,  the  Moorish  knight, 
His  heart  so  filled  with  furious  rage 

That  where  his  fiery  pen  had  passed 
It  pierced  and  rent  the  flimsy  page. 

He  called  his  varlet  to  his  side, 

"  Now  seek  the  Alhambra's  hall,"  said  he, 
"  And  privately  to  Zaide  say 

That  this  epistle  comes  from  me; 

"  And  whisper,  that  none  else  may  hear, 

And  say  that  I  his  coming  wait, 
Where  Genii's  crystal  torrent  laves 
The  pillars  of  yon  palace  gate." 


MOORISH    LITERATURE 


THE  ADMIRAL'S  FAREWELL 

The  royal  fleet  with  fluttering  sail  is  waiting  in  the  bay ; 
And  brave  Mustapha,  the  Admiral,  must  start  at  break  of  day. 
His  hood  and  cloak  of  many  hues  he  swiftly  dons,  and  sets 
Upon  his  brow  his  turban  gay  with  pearls  and  amulets ; 
Of  many  tints  above  his  head  his  plumes  are  waving  wide ; 
Like  a  crescent  moon  his  scimitar  is  dangling  at  his  side ; 
And  standing  at  the  window,  he  gazes  forth,  and,  hark ! 
Across  the  rippling  waters  floats  the  summons  to  embark. 

Blow,  trumpets;  clarions,  sound  your  strain! 

Strike,  kettle-drum,  the  alarum  in  refrain. 

Let  the  shrill  fife,  the  flute,  the  sackbut  ring 

A  summons  to  our  Admiral,  a  salvo  to  our  King! 

The  haughty  Turk  his  scarlet  shoe  upon  the  stirrup  placed, 

Right  easily  he  vaulted  to  his  saddle-tree  in  haste. 

His  courser  was  Arabian,  in  whose  crest  and  pastern  show 

A  glossy  coat  as  soft  as  silk,  as  white  as  driven  snow. 

One  mark  alone  was  on  his  flank!  'twas  branded  deep  and 

dark; 

The  letter  F  in  Arab  script,  stood  out  the  sacred  mark. 
By  the  color  of  his  courser  he  wished  it  to  be  seen 
That  the  soul  of  the  King's  Admiral  was  white  and  true  and 

clean. 

Oh,  swift  and  full  of  mettle  was  the  steed  which  that  day  bore 
Mustapha,  the  High  Admiral,  down  to  the  wave-beat  shore! 
The  haughty  Turk  sails  forth  at  morn,  that  Malta  he  may  take, 
But  many  the  greater  conquest  his  gallant  men  shall  make ; 
For  his  heart  is  high  and  his  soul  is  bent  on  death  or  victory, 
And  he  pauses,  as  the  clashing  sound  comes  from  the  distant 

sea; 

Blow,  trumpets ;  clarions,  sound  your  strain ! 
Strike,  kettle-drum,  the  alarum  in  refrain. 
Let  fife  and  flute,  and  sackbut  in  accord 

Proclaim,  Aboard!  Aboard! 
Thy  pinnace  waits  thee  at  the  slip,  lord  Admiral, 

aboard ! 


THE  ADMIRAL'S   FAREWELL  7 

And  as  he  hears  the  summons  Love  makes  for  him  reply, 
"  O  whither,  cruel  fortune,  wilt  thou  bid  the  warrior  fly  ? 
Must  I  seek  thee  in  the  ocean,  where  the  winds  and  billows 

roar? 
Must  I  seek  thee  there,  because  in  vain  I  sought  thee  on  the 

shore  ? 

And  dost  thou  think  the  ocean,  crossed  by  my  flashing  sail, 
With  all  its  myriad  waters  and  its  rivers,  can  avail 
To  quench  the  ardent  fire  of  love  that  rages  in  my  breast, 
And  soothe  the  fever  of  my  soul  into  one  hour  of  rest  ? 
And  as  he  mused,  in  bitter  thought,  Mustapha  reached  in  haste 
A  balcony ;  till  dawn  of  day  before  that  house  he  paced, 
And  all  his  heart's  anxieties  he  counted  o'er  and  o'er, 
And,  when  the  darkness  of  the  night  toward  opening  twilight 

wore, 

Upon  the  balcony  there  came  the  cause  of  all  his  sighs, 
But  a  smile  was  on  her  rosy  lips  and  a  light  was  in  her  eyes. 
"  O  lovely  Zaida,"  he  began,  and  gazed  into  her  face, 
"  If  my  presence  at  thy  window  is  a  burden  to  thy  peace, 
One  pledge  bestow  upon  me,  one  pledge  of  love,  I  pray, 
And  let  me  kiss  thy  lily  hand  before  I  sail  away." 
"  I  grieve  for  thy  departure,"  the  lady  made  reply, 
"  And  it  needs  no  pledge  to  tell  thee  I  am  faithful  till  I  die, 
But  if  one  token  thou  must  have,  take  this  ere  thou  depart ; 
('Twas  fashioned  by  these  hands  of  mine)  and  keep  it  on  thy 

heart!" 

The  Moor  rose  in  his  stirrups,  he  took  it  from  her  hand, 
'Twas  a  piece  of  lace  of  gold  and  silk  shaped  for  a  helmet 

band. 

There  was  the  wheel  of  fortune  with  subtile  needle  drawn, 
(Ah,  Fortune  that  had  left  him  there  dejected  and  forlorn !) 
And  as  he  paused,  he  heard  the  sound  tumultuous  come  again, 
'Twas  from  the  fleet,  down  in  the  bay,  and  well  he  knew  the 

strain. 

Blow,  trumpets ;  clarions,  sound  your  strain ; 
Strike,  kettle-drum,  the  alarum  in  refrain. 
Let  fife  and  flute,  and  sackbut  in  accord 

Proclaim,  Aboard!  Aboard! 
Thy  pinnace  waits  thee  at  the  slip,  lord  Admiral, 

aboard ! 


8  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Oh,  stay  my  foes,  nor  in  such  haste  invite  me  to  the  field ! 
Here  let  me  take  the  triumphs  that  softer  conquests  yield! 
This  is  the  goal  of  my  desire,  the  aim  of  my  design, 
That  Zaida's  hand  in  mine  be  placed  and  her  heart  beat  close 

to  mine ! 

Then  spake  the  fair  Sultana,  and  she  dropped  a  tender  tear, 
"  Nay  mourn  not  for  the  present  pain,  for  future  bliss  is  near. 
The  wings  of  Time  are  swift,  and  they  bear  a  brighter  day ; 
And  when  once  the  longed-for  gift  is  here  'twill  never  pass 

away !  " 
Then  the  Moor's  heart  beat  high  with  joy;  to  smiles  were 

changed  his  sighs, 

In  silent  ecstasy  he  gazed  into  the  lady's  eyes. 
He  rode  to  meet  his  waiting  fleet,  for  favoring  was  the  wind, 
But  while  his  body  went  on  board,  he  left  his  heart  behind ! 

Blow,  trumpets ;  clarions,  sound  your  strain ! 
Strike,  kettle-drum,  the  alarum  in  refrain. 
Let  the  shrill  fife,  the  flute,  the  sackbut  ring 
A  summons  to  our  Admiral,  a  salvo  to  our  King. 


MORIANA  AND  GALVAN 

'Twas  Princess  Moriana, 

Upon  a  castle's  height, 
That  played  with  Moorish  Galvan 

At  cards  for  her  delight ; 
And  oft  he  lost  the  stakes  he  set, 

Full  many  a  coin  I  wis ; 
When  Moriana  lost,  she  gave 

Her  hand  for  him  to  kiss. 
And  after  hours  of  pleasure 

Moor  Galvan  sank  to  sleep ; 
And  soon  the  lady  saw  a  knight 

Descend  the  mountain  steep; 
His  voice  was  raised  in  sorrow, 

His  eyes  with  tears  were  wet, 
For  lovely  Moriana 

His  heart  could  ne'er  forget.     . 


MORIANA   AND   GALVAN 

For  her,  upon  St.  John's  Day, 

While  she  was  gathering  flowers, 
The  Moors  had  made  a  captive, 

Beneath  her  father's  towers. 
And  Moriana  raised  her  eyes 

And  saw  her  lover  ride, 
And  on  her  cheeks  her  Moorish  lord 

The  sparkling  tears  descried. 
With  anger  raged  his  spirit, 

And  thus  to  her  he  cried: 
"  What  ails  thee,  gentle  lady? 

Why  flows  with  tears  thine  eye? 
If  Moors  of  mine  have  done  thee  wrong, 

I  swear  that  they  shall  die; 
If  any  of  thy  maidens 

Have  caused  thee  this  distress, 
The  whip  across  their  shoulders 

Shall  avenge  their  wickedness. 
Or,  if  the  Christian  countrymen 

Have  sorrow  for  thee  made, 
I  will,  with  conquering  armies, 

Their  provinces  invade. 
The  warlike  weapons  that  I  don 

Are  festal  robes  to  me; 
To  me  the  din  of  battle 

Is  sweet  tranquillity ; 
The  direst  toils  the  warrior  bears 

With  steadfast  joy  I  meet ; 
To  me  the  watch  that  nightlong  lasts 

Is  like  a  slumber  sweet." 
"  No  Moors  of  thine  within  these  halls 

Have  caused  to  me  this  pain ; 
No  maidens  waiting  in  my  bower 

Have  showed  to  me  disdain ; 
Nor  have  my  Christian  kinsmen 

To  mourn  my  spirit  made, 
Provoking  thee  in  vengeance 

Their  province  to  invade. 
Vain  the  deep  cause  of  my  distress 

From  Galvan's  eye  to  hide — 


io  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

'Tis  that  I  see  down  yonder  mount 

A  knight  in  armor  ride. 
'Tis  such  a  sight  that  does  my  tears 

From  very  heart-springs  move; 
For  yonder  knight  is  all  to  me, 

My  husband  and  my  love." 
Straight  the  Moor's  cheek  with  anger  flushed, 

Till  red  eclipsed  the  brown, 
And  his  clenched  fist  he  lifted 

As  if  to  strike  her  down. 
He  gnashed  his  teeth  with  passion, 

The  fangs  with  blood  were  red, 
He  called  his  slaves  and  bade  them 

Strike  off  the  lady's  head. 
He  bade  them  bind  and  take  her 

First  to  the  mountain's  height, 
That  she  the  doom  might  suffer 

Within  her  husband's  sight ; 
But  all  the  lady  answered, 

When  she  was  brought  to  death, 
Were  words  of  faith  and  loyalty 

Borne  on  her  parting  breath : 
"  Behold,  I  die  a  Christian, 

And  here  repeat  my  vows 
Of  faithfulness  to  yonder  knight, 

My  loved  and  lawful  spouse." 


THE   BEREAVED    FATHER 

"  Rise  up,  rise  up,  thou  hoary  head, 

What  madness  causes  thy  delay? 
Thou  killest  swine  on  Thursday  morn, 
And  eatest  flesh  on  fasting  day. 

"  'Tis  now  seven  years  since  first  I  trod 

The  valley  and  the  wandering  wood ; 
My  feet  were  bare,  my  flesh  was  torn, 
And  all  my  pathway  stained  in  blood. 


THE   WARDEN    OF    MOLINA 

"  Ah,  mournfully  I  seek  in  vain 

The  Emperor's  daughter,  who  had  gone 
A  prisoner  made  by  caitiff  Moors, 
Upon  the  morning  of  St.  John. 

"  She  gathered  flowers  upon  the  plain, 

She  plucked  the  roses  from  the  spray, 
And  in  the  orchard  of  her  sire 
They  found  and  bore  the  maid  away." 

These  words  has  Moriana  heard, 

Close  nestled  in  the  Moor's  embrace ; 

The  tears  that  welled  from  out  her  eyes 
Have  wet  her  captor's  swarthy  face. 


THE  WARDEN  OF  MOLINA 

The  warden  of  Molina,  ah !  furious  was  his  speed, 

As  he  dashed  his  glittering  rowels  in  the  flank  of  his  good 

steed, 

And  his  reins  left  dangling  from  the  bit,  along  the  white  high- 
way, 
For  his  mind  was  set  to  speed  his  horse,  to  speed  and  not  to 

stay. 

He  rode  upon  a  grizzled  roan,  and  with  the  wind  he  raced, 
And  the  breezes  rustled  round  him  like  a  tempest  in  the  was.te. 
In  the  Plaza  of  Molina  at  last  he  made  his  stand, 
And  in  a  voice  of  thunder  he  uttered  his  command : 
To  arms,  to  arms,  my  captains! 
Sound,  clarions  ;  trumpets,  blow  ; 
And  let  the  thundering  kettle-drum 
Give  challenge  to  the  foe. 

"  Now  leave  your  feasts  and  banquetings  and  gird  you  in  your 

steel ! 
And  leave  the  couches  of  delight,  where  slumber's  charm  you 

feel; 

Your  country  calls  for  succor,  all  must  the  word  obey, 
For  the  freedom  of  your  fathers  is  in  your  hands  to-day. 
Ah,  sore  may  be  the  struggle,  and  vast  may  be  the  cost ; 
But  yet  no  tie  of  love  must  keep  you  now,  or  all  is  lost. 


12  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

In  breasts  where  honor  dwells  there  is  no  room  in  times  like 

these 
To  dally  at  a  lady's  side,  kneel  at  a  lady's  knees. 

To  arms,  to  arms,  my  captains! 

Sound,  clarions ;  trumpets,  blow  ; 

And  let  the  thundering  kettle-drum 

Give  challenge  to  the  foe. 

"  Yes,  in  the  hour  of  peril  away  with  pleasure's  thrall ! 
Let  honor  take  the  lance  and  steed  to  meet  our  country's  call. 
For  those  who  craven  in  the  fight  refuse  to  meet  the  foe 
Shall  sink  beneath  the  feet  of  all  struck  by  a  bitterer  blow ; 
In  moments  when  fair  honor's  crown  is  offered  to  the  brave 
And  dangers  yawn  around  our  State,  deep  as  the  deadly  grave, 
'Tis  right  strong  arms  and  sturdy  hearts  should  take  the  sword 

of  might, 
And  eagerly  for  Fatherland  descend  into  the  fight. 

To  arms,  to  arms,  my  captains! 

Sound,  clarions ;  trumpets,  blow  ; 

And  let  the  thundering  kettle-drum 

Give  challenge  to  the  foe. 

"  Then  lay  aside  the  silken  robes,  the  glittering  brocade ; 

Be  all  in  vest  of  leather  and  twisted  steel  arrayed ; 

On  each  left  arm  be  hung  the  shield,  safe  guardian  of  the  breast, 

And  take  the  crooked  scimitar  and  put  the  lance  in  rest, 

And  face  the  fortune  of  the  day,  for  it  is  vain  to  fly, 

And  the  coward  and  the  braggart  now  alone  are  doomed  to 

die. 

And  let  each  manly  bosom  show,  in  the  impending  fray, 
A  valor  such  as  Mars  himself  in  fury  might  display. 

To  arms,  to  arms,  my  captains! 

Sound,  clarions ;  trumpets,  blow ; 

And  let  the  thundering  kettle-drum 

Give  challenge  to  the  foe. 

He  spoke,  and  at  his  valiant  words,  that  rang  through  all  the 

square, 

The  veriest  cowards  of  the  town  resolved  to  do  and  dare ; 
And  stirred  by  honor's  eager  fire  forth  from  the  gate  they 

stream, 


THE    WARDEN    OF    MOLINA  !3 

And  plumes  are  waving  in  the  air,  and  spears  and  falchions 

gleam ; 
And  turbaned  heads  and  faces  fierce,  and  smiles  in  anger 

quenched, 
And  sweating  steeds  and  flashing  spurs  and  hands  in  fury 

clenched, 

Follow  the  fluttering  banners  that  toward  the  vega  swarm, 
And  many  a  voice  re-echoes  the  words  of  wild  alarm. 
To  arms,  to  arms,  my  captains! 
Sound,  clarions ;  trumpets,  blow ; 
And  let  the  thundering  kettle-drum 
Give  challenge  to  the  foe. 

And,  like  the  timid  lambs  that  crowd  with  bleatings  in  the  fold, 
When  they  advancing  to  their  throats  the  furious  wolf  behold, 
The  lovely  Moorish  maidens,  with  wet  but  flashing  eyes, 
Are  crowded  in  a  public  square  and  fill  the  air  with  cries ; 
And  tho',  like  tender  women,  'tis  vain  for  them  to  arm, 
Yet  loudly  they  re-echo  the  words  of  the  alarm. 
To  heaven  they  cry  for  succor,  and,  while  to  heaven  they  pray, 
They  call  the  knights  they  love  so  well  to  arm  them  for  the 
fray. 

To  arms,  to  arms,  my  captains! 

Sound,  clarions;  trumpets,  blow; 

And  let  the  thundering  kettle-drum 

Give  challenge  to  the  foe. 

The  foremost  Moorish  nobles,  Molina's  chosen  band, 
Rush  forward  from  the  city  the  invaders  to  withstand. 
There  marshalled  in  a  squadron  with  shining  arms  they  speed, 
Like  knights  and  noble  gentlemen,  to  meet  their  country's 

need. 
Twelve  thousand  Christians  crowd  the  plain,  twelve  thousand 

warriors  tried, 

They  fire  the  homes,  they  reap  the  corn,  upon  the  vega  wide ; 
And  the  warriors  of  Molina  their  furious  lances  ply, 
And  in  their  own  Arabian  tongue  they  raise  the  rallying  cry. 

To  arms,  to  arms,  my  captains ! 

Sound,  clarions;  trumpets,  blow; 

And  let  the  thundering  kettle-drum 

Give  challenge  to  the  foe. 


i4  MOORISH    LITERATURE 


THE  LOVES  OF  BOABDIL  AND  VINDARAJA 

Where  Antequera's  city  stands,  upon  the  southern  plain, 
The  captive  Vindaraja  sits  and  mourns  her  lot  in  vain. 
While  Chico,  proud  Granada's  King,  nor  night  nor  day  can 

rest, 

For  of  all  the  Moorish  ladies  Vindaraja  he  loves  best ; 
And  while  naught  can  give  her  solace  and  naught  can  dry  her 

tear, 

'Tis  not  the  task  of  slavery  nor  the  cell  that  brings  her  fear ; 
For  while  in  Antequera  her  body  lingers  still, 
Her  heart  is  in  Granada  upon  Alhambra's  hill. 
There,  while  the  Moorish  monarch  longs  to  have  her  at  his 

side, 

More  keen  is  Vindaraja's  wish  to  be  a  monarch's  bride. 
Ah !  long  delays  the  moment  that  shall  bring  her  liberty, 
A  thousand  thousand  years  in  every  second  seem  to  fly ! 
For  she  thinks  of  royal  Chico,  and  her  face  with  tears  is  wet, 
For  she  knows  that  absence  oft  will  make  the  fondest  heart 

forget. 

And  the  lover  who  is  truest  may  yet  suspicion  feel, 
For  the  loved  one  in  some  distant  land  whose  heart  is  firm  as 

steel. 
And  now  to  solve  her  anxious  doubts,  she  takes  the  pen  one 

day 

And  writes  to  royal  Chico,  in  Granada  far  away. 
Ah !  long  the  letter  that  she  wrote  to  tell  him  of  her  state, 
In  lonely  prison  cell  confined,  a  captive  desolate! 
She  sent  it  by  a  Moorish  knight,  and  sealed  it  with  her  ring ; 
He  was  warden  of  Alhambra  and  stood  beside  the  King, 
And  he  had  come  sent  by  the  King  to  Antequera's  tower, 
To  learn  how  Vindaraja  fared  within  that  prison  bower. 
The  Moor  was  faithful  to  his  charge,  a  warrior  stout  and 

leal, 
And  Chico  took  the  note  of  love  and  trembling  broke  the 

seal; 

And  when  the  open  page  he  saw  and  read  what  it  contained, 
These  were  the  words  in  which  the  maid  of  her  hard  lot  com- 
plained : 


THE  LOVES  OF   BOABDIL  AND   VINDARAJA  15 

THE  LETTER  OF  VINDARAJA 

"  Ah,  hapless  is  the  love-lorn  maid  like  me  in  captive  plight, 
For  freedom  once  was  mine,  and  I  was  happy  day  and  night. 
Yes,  happy,  for  I  knew  that  thou  hadst  given  me.  thy  love, 
Precious  the  gift  to  lonely  hearts  all  other  gifts  above. 
Well  mightest  thou  forget  me,  though  'twere  treachery  to  say 
The  flame  that  filled  thy  royal  heart  as  yet  had  passed  away. 
Still,  though  too  oft  do  lovers'  hearts  in  absent  hours  repine. 
I  know  if  there  are  faithful  vows,  then  faithful  will  be  thine ! 
'Tis  hard,  indeed,  for  lovers  to  crush  the  doubting  thought 
Which  to  the  brooding  bosom  some  lonely  hour  has  brought. 
There  is  no  safety  for  the  love,  when  languish  out  of  sight 
The  form,  the  smile,  the  flashing  eyes  that  once  were  love's 

delight ; 

Nor  can  I,  I  confess  it,  feel  certain  of  thy  vow ! 
How  many  Moorish  ladies  are  gathered  round  thee  now ! 
How  many  fairer,  brighter  forms  are  clustered  at  thy  throne, 
Whose  power  might  change  to  very  wax  the  heart  of  steel  or 

stone ! 

And  if,  indeed,  there  be  a  cause  why  I  should  blame  thy  heart, 
'Tis  the  delay  that  thou  hast  shown  in  taking  here  my  part. 
Why  are  not  armies  sent  to  break  these  prison  bars,  and  bring 
Back  to  her  home  the  Moorish  maid,  the  favorite  of  the  King? 
A  maid  whose  eyes  are  changed  to  springs  whence  flow  the 

flood  of  tears, 
For  she  thinks  of  thee  and  weeps  for  thee  through  all  these 

absent  years. 

Believe  me,  if  'twere  thou,  who  lay  a  captive  in  his  chain, 
My  life  of  joy,  to  rescue  thee,  my  heart  of  blood  I'd  drain ! 

0  King  and  master,  if,  indeed,  I  am  thy  loved  one  still, 
As  in  those  days  when  I  was  first  upon  Alhambra's  hill, 
Send  rescue  for  thy  darling,  or  fear  her  love  may  fade, 
For  love  that  needs  the  sunlight  must  wither  in  the  shade. 
And  yet  I  cannot  doubt  thee ;  if  e'er  suspicion's  breath 
Should  chill  my  heart,  that  moment  would  be  Vindaraja's 

death. 

Nor  think  should  you  forget  me  or  spurn  me  from  your  arms, 
That  life  for  Vindaraja  could  have  no  other  charms. 
It  was  thy  boast  thou  once  did  love  a  princess,  now  a  slave, 

1  boasted  that  to  thy  behest  I  full  obedience  gave ! 


16  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

And  from  this  prison  should  I  come,  in  freedom  once  again, 

To  sit  and  hear  thy  words  of  love  on  Andalusia's  plain, 

The  brightest  thought  would  be  to  me  that  thou,  the  King, 

has  seen 
'Twas  right  to  free  a  wretched  slave  that  she  might  be  thy 

Queen. 

Hard  is  the  lot  of  bondage  here,  and  heavy  is  my  chain, 
And  from  my  prison  bars  I  gaze  with  lamentation  vain ; 
But  these  are  slight  and  idle  things — my  one,  my  sole  distress 
Is  that  I  cannot  see  thy  face  and  welcome  thy  caress ! 
This  only  is  the  passion  that  can  my  bosom  rend ; 
'Tis  this  alone  that  makes  me  long  for  death,  my  sufferings 

end. 

The  plagues  of  life  are  naught  to  me ;  life's  only  joy  is  this — 
To  see  thee  and  to  hear  thee  and  to  blush  beneath  thy  kiss ! 
Alas !  perchance  this  evening  or  to-morrow  morn,  may  be, 
The  lords  who  hold  me  here  a  slave  in  sad  captivity, 
May,  since  they  think  me  wanton,  their  treacherous  measures 

take 

That  I  should  be  a  Christian  and  my  former  faith  forsake. 
But  I  tell  them,  and  I  weep  to  tell,  that  I  will  ne'er  forego 
The  creed  my  fathers  fought  for  in  centuries  long  ago ! 
And  yet  I  might  forswear  it,  but  that  that  creed  divine 
'Tis  vain  I  struggle  to  deny,  for,  ah,  that  creed  is  thine !  " 
King  Chico  read  his  lady's  note  and  silent  laid  it  down ; 
Then  to  the  window  he  drew  nigh,  and  gazed  upon  the  town ; 
And  lost  in  thought  he  pondered  upon  each  tender  line, 
And  sudden  tears  and  a  sigh  of  grief  were  his  inward  sorrow's 

sign. 

And  he  called  for  ink  and  paper,  that  Vindaraja's  heart 
Might  know  that  he  remembered  her  and  sought  to  heal  its 

smart. 
He  would  tell  her  that  the  absence  which  caused  to  her  those 

fears 
Had  only  made  her  dearer  still,  through  all  those  mournful 

years. 
He  would  tell  her  that  his  heart  was  sad,  because  she  was  not 

near — 
Yes,  far  more  sad  than  Moorish  slave  chained  on  the  south 

frontier. 


THE   LOVES   OF   BOABDIL  AND   VINDARAJA  I7 

And  then  he  wrote  the  letter  to  the  darling  Moorish  slave, 
And  this  is  the  tender  message  that  royal  Chico  gave: 

THE  LETTER  OF  THE  KING 

"  Thy    words    have    done    me    grievous    wrong,   for,    lovely 

Mooress,  couldst  thou  think 
That  he  who  loves  thee  more  than  life  could  e'er  to  such  a 

treachery  sink? 
His  life  is  naught  without  the  thought  that  thou  art  happy  in 

thy  lot ; 
And  while  the  red  blood  at  his  heart  is  beating  thou  art  ne'er 

forgot ! 
Thou  woundest  me  because  thy  heart  mistrusts  me  as  a  fickle 

fool; 
Thou  dost  not  know  when  passion  true  has  one  apt  pupil  taken 

to  school. 

Oblivion  could  not,  could  not  cloud  the  image  on  his  soul  im- 
pressed, 
Unless  dark  treachery  from  the  first  had  been  the  monarch  of 

his  breast; 
And  if  perhaps  some  weary  hours  I  thought  that  Vindaraja's 

mind 

Might  in  some  happier  cavalier  the  solace  of  her  slavery  find, 
I  checked  the  thought;  I  drove  away  the  vision  that  with 

death  was  rife, 

For  e'er  my  trust  in  thee  I  lost,  in  battle  I'd  forego  my  life ! 
Yet  even  the  doubt  that  thou  hast  breathed  gives  me  no  fran- 
chise to  forget, 
And  were  I  willing  that  thy  face  should  cease  to  fill  my  vision, 

yet 
Tis  separation's  self  that  binds  us  closer  though  the  centuries 

roll, 
And  forges  that  eternal  chain  that  binds  together  soul  and 

soul! 
And  even  were  this  thought  no  more  than  the  wild  vision  of 

my  mind, 
Yet  in  a  thousand  worlds  no  face  to 'change  for  thine  this 

heart  could  find. 
Thro'  life,  thro'  death  'twere  all  the  same,  and  when  to  heaven 

our  glance  we  raise, 

2 


1 8  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Full  in  the  very  heart  of  bliss  thine  eyes  shall  meet  my  ardent 

gaze. 
For  eyes  that  have  beheld  thy  face,  full  readily  the  truth  will 

own 
That  God  exhausted,  .when  he  made  thee,  all  the  treasures  of 

his  throne! 
And  my  trusting  heart  will  answer  while  it  fills  my  veins  with 

fire 

That  to  hear  of,  is  to  see  thee ;  and  to  see,  is  to  desire ! 
Yet  unless  my  Vindaraja  I  could  look  upon  awhile, 
As  some  traveller  in  a  desert  I  should  perish  for  her  smile  ; 
For  'tis  longing  for  her  presence  makes  the  spring  of  life 

to  me, 

And  allays  the  secret  suffering  none  except  her  eye  can  see. 
In  this  thought  alone  my  spirit  finds  refreshment  and  delight ; 
This  is  sweeter  than  the  struggle,  than  the  glory  of  the  fight ; 
And  if  e'er  I  could  forget  her  heaving  breast  and  laughing 

eye, 

Tender  word,  and  soft  caresses — Vindaraja,  I  should  die ! 
If  the  King  should  bid  me  hasten  to  release  thee  from  thy 

chain, 

Oh,  believe  me,  dearest  lady,  he  would  never  bid  in  vain ; 
Naught  he  could  demand  were  greater  than  the  price  that  I 

would  pay, 

If  in  high  Alhambra's  halls  I  once  again  could  see  thee  gay ! 
None  can  say  I  am  remiss,  and  heedless  of  thy  dismal  fate ; 
Love  comes  to  prompt  me  every  hour,  he  will  not  let  my  zeal 

abate. 

If  occasion  call,  I  yield  myself,  my  soul  to  set  thee  free ; 
Take  this  offering  if  thou  wilt,  I  wait  thy  word  on  bended 

knee. 

Dost  thou  suffer,  noble  lady,  by  these  fancies  overwrought? 
Ah,  my  soul  is  filled  with  sorrow  at  the  agonizing  thought ; 
For  to  know  that  Vindaraja  languishes,  oppressed  with  care, 
Is  enough  to  make  death  welcome,  if  I  could  but  rescue 

her. 
Yes,  the  world  shall  know  that  I  would  die  not  only  for  the 

bliss 
Of  clasping  thee  in  love's  embrace  and  kindling  at  thy  tender 

kiss. 


THE   LOVES   OF   BOABDIL   AND    VINDARAJA  19 

This,  indeed,  would  be  a  prize,  for  which  the  coward  death 

would  dare — 
I  would  die  to  make  thee  happy,  tho'  thy  lot  I  might  not 

share ! 
Then,  though  I  should  fail  to  lift  the  burden  on  my  darling 

laid, 
Though  I  could  not  prove  my  love  by  rescuing  my  Moorish 

maid, 
Yet  my  love  would  have  this  witness,  first,  thy  confidence 

sublime, 

Then  my  death  for  thee,  recorded  on  the  scroll  of  future  time ! 
Yes,  my  death,  for  should  I  perish,  it  were  comfort  but  to 

think 
Thou  couldst  have  henceforth  on  earth  no  blacker,  bitterer 

cup  to  drink ! 
Sorrow's  shafts  would  be  exhausted,  thou  couldst  laugh  at 

fortune's  power. 

Tho'  I  lost  thee,  yet  this  thought  would  cheer  me  in  my  part- 
ing hour. 
Yet  I  believe  that  fate  intends  (oh,  bear  this  forecast  in  thy 

mind !) 
That  all  the  love  my  passions  crave  will  soon  a  full  fruition 

find; 

Fast  my  passion  stronger  grows,  and  if  of  love  there  meas- 
ure be, 

Believe  it,  dearest,  that  the  whole  can  find  its  summary  in  me ! 
Deem  that  thou  art  foully  wronged,  whose  graces  have  such 

power  to  bless, 
If  any  of  thy  subject  slaves  to  thee,  their  queen,  should  offer 

less. 

And  accept  this  pledged  assurance,  that  oblivion  cannot  roll 
O'er  the  image  of  thy  beauty  stamped  on  this  enamored  soul. 
Then  dismiss  thy  anxious  musings,  let  them  with  the  wind 

away, 

As  the  gloomy  clouds  are  scattered  at  the  rising  of  the  day. 
Think  that  he  is  now  thy  slave,  who,  when  he  wooed  thee, 

was  thy  King; 
Think  that  not  the  brightest  morning  can  to  him  contentment 

bring, 
Till  the  light  of  other  moments  in  thy  melting  eyes  he  trace, 


20  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

And  the  gates  of  Paradise  are  opened  in  thy  warm  embrace. 

Since  thou  knowest  that  death  to  me  and  thee  will  strike  an 
equal  blow, 

It  is  just  that,  while  we  live,  our  hearts  with  equal  hopes 
should  glow. 

Then  no  longer  vex  thy  lover  with  complaints  that  he  may 
change ; 

Darling,  oft  these  bitter  questions  can  the  fondest  love  es- 
trange ; 

No,  I  dream  not  of  estrangement,  for  thy  Chico  evermore 

Thinks  upon  his  Vindaraja's  image  only  to  adore." 


THE  INFANTA  SEVILLA  AND  PERANZUELOS 

Upon  Toledo's  loftiest  towers 

Sevilla  kept  the  height ; 
So  wondrous  fair  was  she  that  love 

Was  blinded  at  the  sight. 

She  stood  amid  the  battlements, 

And  gazed  upon  the  scene 
Where  Tagus  runs  through  woodland 

And  flowers  and  glades  of  green. 

And  she  saw  upon  the  wide  highway 

The  figure  of  a  knight; 
He  rode  upon  a  dappled  steed, 

And  all  his  arms  were  bright. 

Seven  Moors  in  chains  he  led  with  him, 

And  one  arm's  length  aloof 
Came  a  dog  of  a  Moor  from  Morocco's  shore 

In  arms  of  double  proof. 

His  steed  was  swift,  his  countenance 

In  a  warlike  scowl  was  set, 
And  in  his  furious  rage  he  cursed 

The  beard  of  Mahomet! 

He  shouted,  as  he  galloped  up : 
"  Now  halt  thee,  Christian  hound ; 


CELIN'S   FAREWELL  2i 

I  see  at  the  head  of  thy  captive  band 
My  sire,  in  fetters  bound. 

"  And  the  rest  are  brothers  of  my  blood, 

And  friends  I  long  to  free; 
And  if  thou  wilt  surrender  all, 

I'll  pay  thee  gold  and  fee." 

When  Peranzuelos  -  heard  him, 

He  wheeled  his  courser  round. 
With  lance  in  rest,  he  hotly  pressed 

To  strike  him  to  the  ground; 
His  sudden  rage  and  onset  came 

Swift  as  the  thunder's  sound. 

The  Moor  at  the  first  encounter  reeled 

To  earth,  from  his  saddle  bow ; 
And  the  Christian  knight,  dismounting, 

Set  heel  on  the  neck  of  his  foe. 

He  cleft  his  head  from  his  shoulders, 

And,  marshalling  his  train, 
Made  haste  once  more  on  his  journey 

Across  Toledo's  plain. 


CELIN'S    FAREWELL 

He  sadly  gazes  back  again  upon  those  bastions  high, 

The  towers  and  fretted  battlements  that  soar  into  the  sky ; 

And    Celin,   whom  the    King  in    wrath   has   from   Granada 

banned 

Weeps  as  he  turns  to  leave  for  aye  his  own  dear  native  land ; 
No  hope  has  he  his  footsteps  from  exile  to  retrace  ; 
No  hope  again  to  look  upon  his  lady's  lovely  face. 
Then  sighing  deep  he  went  his  way,  and  as  he  went  he  said : 

"  I  see  thee  shining  from  afar, 

As  in  heaven's  arch  some  radiant  star. 

Granada,  queen  and  crown  of  loveliness, 

Listen  to  my  lament,  and  mourn  for  my  distress. 


22  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

"  I  see  outstretched  before  my  eyes  thy  green  and  beauteous 

shore, 
Those    meadow-lands    and    gardens    that    with    flowers    are 

dappled  o'er. 
The  wind  that  lingers  o'er  those  glades  received  the  tribute 

given 

By  many  a  trembling  calyx,  wet  with  the  dews  of  heaven. 
From  Genii's  banks  full  many  a  bough  down  to  the  water 

bends, 

Yon  vega's  green  and  fertile  line  from  flood  to  wall  extends ; 
There  laughing  ladies  seek  the  shade  that  yields  to  them  de- 
light, 

And  the  velvet  turf  is  printed  deep  by  many  a  mounted  knight. 
I  see  thee  shining  from  afar, 
As  in  heaven's  arch  some  radiant  star. 
Granada,  queen  and  town  of  loveliness, 
Listen  to  my  lament,  and  mourn  for  my  distress. 

"  Ye   springs  and  founts  that  sparkling  well  from   yonder 

mountain-side, 

And  flow  with  dimpling  torrent  o'er  mead  and  garden  wide, 
If  e'er  the  tears  that  from  my  breast  to  these  sad  eyes  ascend 
Should  with  your  happy  waters  their  floods  of  sadness  blend, 
Oh,  take  them  to  your  bosom  with  love,  for  love  has  bidden 
These  drops  to  tell  the  wasting  woe  that  in  my  heart  is  hidden. 

I  see  thee  shining  from  afar, 

As  in  heaven's  arch  some  radiant  star. 

Granada,  queen  and  crown  of  loveliness, 

Listen  to  my  lament,  and  mourn  for  my  distress. 

"  Ye  balmy  winds  of  heaven,  whose  sound  is  in  the  rippling 

trees, 

Whose  scented  breath  brings  back  to  me  a  thousand  memories, 
Ye  sweep  beneath  the  arch  of  heaven  like  to  the  ocean  surge 
That  beats  from  Guadalquivir's  bay  to  earth's  extremest 

verge. 

Oh,  when  ye  to  Granada  come  (and  may  great  Allah  send 
His  guardian  host  to  guide  you  to  that  sweet  journey's  end!), 
Carry  my  sighs  along  with  you,  and  breathe  them  in  the  ear 
Of  foes  who  do  me  deadly  wrong,  of  her  who  holds  me  dear. 


CELIN'S   RETURN  , 

Oh,  tell  them  all  the  agony  I  bear  in  banishment, 

That  she  may  share  my  sorrow,  and  my  foe  the  King  relent. 

I  see  thee  shining  from  afar, 

As  in  heaven's  arch  some  radiant  star. 

Granada,  queen  and  crown  of  loveliness, 

Listen  to  my  lament,  and  mourn  for  my  distress." 


CELIN'S  RETURN 

Now  Celin  would  be  merry,  and  appoints  a  festal  day, 
When  he  the  pang  of  absence  from  his  lady  would  allay : 
The  brave  Abencerrages  and  Gulanes  straight  he  calls, 
His  bosom  friends,  to  join  him  as  he  decks  his  stately  halls. 
And  secretly  he  bids  them  come,  and  in  secret  bids  them  go ; 
For  the  day  of  merriment  must  come  unnoticed  by  his  foe; 
For  peering  eyes  and  curious  ears  are  watching  high  and  low, 
But  he  only  seeks  one  happy  day  may  reparation  bring 
For  the  foul  and  causeless  punishment  inflicted  by  the  King. 
"  For  in  the  widest  prison-house  is  misery  for  me, 
And  the  stoutest  heart  is  broken  unless  the  hand  is 
free." 

His  followers  all  he  bade  them  dress  in  Christian  array, 

With  rude  and  rustic  mantles  of  color  bright  and  gay ; 

With  silken  streamers  in  their  caps,  their  caps  of  pointed 

crown, 

With  flowing  blouse,  and  mantle  and  gaberdine  of  brown. 
But  he  himself  wore  sober  robes  of  white  and  lion  gray, 
The  emblems  of  the  hopeless  grief  in  which  the  warrior  lay. 
And  the  thoughts  of  Adalifa,  of  her  words  and  glancing  eyes, 
Gave  colors  of  befitting  gloom  to  tint  his  dark  disguise. 
And  he  came  with  purpose  to  perform  some  great  and  glorious 

deed, 
To  drive  away  the  saddening  thoughts  that  made  the  bosom 

bleed. 

"  For  in  the  widest  prison-house  is  misery  to  me, 
And  the  stoutest  heart  is  broken  unless  the  arm  be 
free." 


24  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

There  streams  into  Granada's  gate  a  stately  cavalcade 
Of  prancing  steeds  caparisoned,  and  knights  in  steel  arrayed ; 
And  all  their  acclamations  raise,  when  Celin  comes  in  sight — 
"  The  foremost  in  the  tournament,  the  bravest  in  the  fight  " — 
And  Moorish  maiden  Cegri  straight  to  the  window  flies, 
To  see  the  glittering  pageant  and  to  hear  the  joyous  cries. 
She  calls  her  maidens  all  to  mark  how,  from  misfortune  free, 
The  gallant  Celin  comes  again,  the  ladies'  knight  is  he ! 
They  know  the  story  of  his  fate  and  undeserved  disgrace, 
And  eagerly  they  gaze  upon  the  splendor  of  his  face. 
Needs  not  his  exploit  in  the  fields,  his  valorous  deeds  to  tell — 
The  ladies  of  Granada  have  heard  and  know  them  well! 
"  For  in  the  widest  prison-house  is  misery  to  me, 
And  the  stoutest  heart  must  break  unless  the  warrior's 
arm  be  free." 

The  beauty  of  Granada  crowds  Elvira's  gate  this  night; 
There  are  straining  necks  and  flushing  cheeks  when  Celin 

comes  in  sight ; 

And  whispered  tales  go  round  the  groups,  and  hearts  indig- 
nant swell, 

As  they  think  what  in  Granada  that  hero  knight  befell. 
Now  a  thousand  Moorish  warriors  to  Celin's  fame  aspire, 
And  a  thousand  ladies  gaze  on  him  with  passionate  desire. 
And  they  talk  of  Adalifa,  to  whom  he  made  his  vow, 
Though  neither  speech  nor  written  page  unites  them  longer 
now. 

"  For  in  the  widest  prison-house  is  misery  to  me, 
And  the  stoutest  heart  must  break  unless  the  warrior's 
arms  be  free." 

The  city  waits  his  coming,  for  the  feast  has  been  prepared, 
By  rich  and  poor,  by  high  and  low  the  revel  shall  be  shared ; 
And  there  are  warriors  high  in  hope  to  win  the  jousting  prize, 
And  there  are  ladies  longing  for  a  smile  from  Celin's  eyes. 
But  when  the  news  of  gladness  reached  Adalifa's  ear, 
Her  loving  heart  was  touched  with  grief  and  filled  with  jealous 

fear; 

And  she  wrote  to  Celin,  bidding  him  to  hold  no  revel  high, 
For  the  thought  of  such  rejoicing  brought  the  tear-drop  to 

her  eye ; 


BAZA   REVISITED  25 

The  Moor  received  the  letter  as  Granada  came  in  sight, 
And  straight  he  turned  his  courser's  head  toward  Jaen's  tow- 
ering height, 

And  exchanged  for  hues  of  mourning  his  robe  of  festal  white. 
"  For  in  the  widest  prison-house  is  misery  to  me, 
And  the  stoutest  heart  is  broke  unless  the  warrior's 
arm  be  free." 


BAZA  REVISITED 

Brave  Celin  came,  the  valiant  son  of  him  the  castelain 
Of  the  fortress  of  Alora  and  Alhama's  windy  plain. 
He  came  to  see  great  Baza,  where  he  in  former  days 
Had  won  from  Zara's  father  that  aged  warrior's  praise. 
The  Moor  gazed  on  that  fortress  strong,  the  towers  all  deso- 
late, 
The  castle  high  that  touched  the  sky,  the  rampart  and  the 

gate. 

The  ruined  hold  he  greeted,  it  seemed  its  native  land, 
For  there  his  bliss  had  been  complete  while  Zara  held  his 

hand. 

And  Fortune's  cruel  fickleness  he  furiously  reviled, 
For  his  heart  sent  madness  to  his  brain  and  all  his  words  were 

wild. 

"  O  goddess  who  controllest  on  earth  our  human  fate, 
How  is  it  I  offend  thee,  that  my  life  is  desolate  ? 
Ah !  many  were  the  triumphs  that  from  Zara's  hands  I  bore, 
When  in  the  joust  or  in  the  dance  she  smiled  on  me  of  yore. 
And  now,  while  equal  fortune  incessantly  I  chase, 
Naught  can  I  gather  from  thy  hand  but  disaster  and  disgrace. 
Since  King  Fernando  brought  his  host  fair  Baza  to  blockade, 
My  lot  has  been  a  wretched  lot  of  anguish  unalloyed. 
Yet  was  Fernando  kind  to  me  with  all  his  kingly  art, 
He  won  my  body  to  his  arms,  he  could  not  win  my  heart." 
While  thus  he  spoke  the  mantle  that  he  wore  he  cast  away ; 
'Twas  green,  'twas  striped  with  red  and  white,  'twas  lined  with 

dismal  gray. 

"  Best  suits  my  fate,  best  suits  the  hue,  in  this  misfortune's 
day; 


26  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Not  green,  not  white  nor  purple,  but  the  palmer's  garb  of 

gray. 

I  ask  no  plumes  for  helm  or  cap  of  nature's  living  green, 
For  hope  has  vanished  from  my  life  of  that  which  might  have 

been! 

And  from  my  target  will  I  blot  the  blazon  that  is  vain — 
The  lynx  whose  eyes  are  fixed  upon  the  prey  that  it  would 

gain. 

For  the  glances  that  I  cast  around  meet  fortune's  foul  disdain  ; 
And  I  will  blot  the  legend,  as  an  accursed  screed. 
Twas  writ  in  Christian  letters  plain  that  all  the  world  might 

read: 
'  My  good  right  arm  can  gain  me  more  altho'  its  range  be 

short, 
Then  all  I  know  by  eye-sight  or  the  boundless  range  of 

thought.' 

The  blue  tahala  fluttering  bright  upon  my  armored  brow 
In  brilliant  hue  assorts  but  ill  with  the  lot  I  meet  with  now. 
I  cast  away  this  gaudy  cap,  it  bears  the  purple  dye ; 
Not  that  my  love  is  faithless,  for  I  own  her  constancy ; 
But  for  the  fear  that  there  may  be,  within  the  maiden's  sight, 
A  lover  worthier  of  her  love  than  this  unhappy  knight." 
With  that  he  took  his  lance  in  hand,  and  placed  it  in  its  rest, 
And  o'er  the  plain   with  bloody  spur  the  mournful   Celin 

pressed. 
On  his  steed's  neck  he  threw  the  reins,  the  reins  hung  dangling 

low, 
That  the  courser  might  have  liberty  to  choose  where  he  would 

go; 
And  he  said :  "  My  steed,  oh,  journey  well,  and  make  thy  way 

to  find 

The  bliss  which  still  eludes  me,  tho'  'tis  ever  in  my  mind. 
Nor  bit  nor  rein  shall  now  restrain  thy  course  across  the  lea, 
For  the  curb  and  the  bridle  I  only  use  from  infamy  to  flee." 


CAPTIVE   ZARA  27 

CAPTIVE  ZARA 

In  Palma  there  was  little  joy,  so  lovely  Zara  found ; 
She  felt  herself  a  slave,  although  by  captive  chain  unbound. 
In  Palma's  towers  she  wandered  from  all  the  guests  apart; 
For  while  Palma  had  her  body,  'twas  Baza  held  her  heart. 
And  while  her  heart  was  fixed  on  one,  her  charms  no  less 

enthralled 

The  heart  of  this  brave  cavalier,  Celin  Andalla  called. 
Ah,  hapless,  hapless  maiden,  for  in  her  deep  despair 
She  did  not  know  what  grief  her  face  had  caused  that  knight 

to  bear; 
And  though  the  Countess  Palma  strove  with  many  a  service 

kind 
To  show  her  love,  to  soothe  the  pang  that  wrung  the  maiden's 

mind, 

Yet  borne  upon  the  tempest  of  the  captive's  bitter  grief, 
She  never  lowered  the  sail  to  give  her  suffering  heart  relief. 
And,  in  search  of  consolation  to  another  captive  maid, 
She  told  the  bitter  sorrow  to  no  one  else  displayed. 
She  told  it,  while  the  tears  ran  fast,  and  yet  no  balm  did  gain, 
For  it  made  more  keen  her  grief,  I  ween,  to  give  another  pain. 
And  she  said  to  her  companion,  as  she  clasped  her  tender 

hand: 

"  I  was  born  in  high  Granada,  my  loved,  my  native  land ; 
For  years  within  Alhambra's  courts  my  life  ran  on  serene; 
I  was  a  princess  of  the  realm  and  handmaid  to  a  queen. 
Within  her  private  chamber  I  served  both  night  and  day, 
And  the  costliest  jewels  of  her  crown  in  my  protection  lay. 
To  her  I  was  the  favorite  of  all  the  maids  she  knew ; 
And,  ah !   my  royal  mistress  I  loved,  I  loved  her  true ! 
No  closer  tie  I  owned  on  earth  than  bound  me  to  her  side ; 
No  closer  tie ;  I  loved  her  more  than  all  the  world  beside. 
But  more  I  loved  than  aught  on  earth,  the  gallant  Moorish 

knight, 

Brave  Celin,  who  is  solely  mine,  and  I  his  sole  delight. 
Yes,  he  was  brave,  and  all  men  own  the  valor  of  his  brand ; 
Yes,  and  for  this  I  loved  him  more  than  monarchs  of  the  land. 
For  me  he  lived,  for  me  he  fought,  for  me  he  mourned  and 

wept, 


28  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

When  he  saw  me  in  this  captive  home  like  a  ship  to  the 

breakers  swept. 

He  called  on  heaven,  and  heaven  was  deaf  to  all  his  bitter  cry, 
For  the  victim  of  the  strife  of  kings,  of  the  bloody  war,  was  I ; 
It  was  my  father  bade  him  first  to  seek  our  strong  retreat. 
Would  God  that  he  had  never  come  to  Baza's  castle  seat ! 
Would  God  that  he  had  never  come,  an  armored  knight,  to 

stand 

Amid  the  soldiers  that  were  ranked  beneath  my  sire's  com- 
mand. 

He  came,  he  came,  that  valiant  Moor,  beneath  our  roof  to  rest. 
His  body  served  my  father ;  his  heart,  my  sole  behest ; 
What  perils  did  he  face  upon  that  castle's  frowning  height ! 
Winning  my  father's  praise,  he  gained  more  favor  in  my 

sight. 

And  when  the  city  by  the  bands  of  Christians  was  assailed, 
My  soul  'neath  terrors  fiercer  still  in  lonely  terror  quailed. 
For  I  have  lost  my  sire,  and  I  have  lost  my  lover  brave, 
For  here  I  languish  all  alone,  a  subject  and  a  slave. 
And  yet  the  Moor,  altho'  he  left  with  me  his  loving  heart, 
I  fear  may  have  forgotten  that  I  own  his  better  part. 
And  now  the  needle  that  I  ply  is  witness  to  the  state 
Of  bondage,  which  I  feel  to-day  with  heart  disconsolate. 
And  here  upon  the  web  be  writ,  in  the  Arabian  tongue, 
The  legend  that  shall  tell  the  tale  of  how  my  heart  is  wrung. 
Here  read :  '  If  thou  hast  ta'en  my  heart  when  thou  didst  ride 

away, 

Remember  that  myself,  my  living  soul,  behind  thee  stay.' 
And  on  the  other  side  these  words  embroidered  would  I  place : 
'  The  word  shall  never  fail  that  once  I  spake  before  thy  face.' 
And  on  the  border  underneath  this  posy,  written  plain: 
'  The  promise  that  I  made  to  thee  still  constant  shall  remain.' 
And  last  of  all,  this  line  I  add,  the  last  and  yet  the  best : 
'  Thou  ne'er  shalt  find  inconstancy  in  this  unchanging  breast.' 
Thus  runs  the  embroidery  of  love,  and  in  the  midst  appears 
A  phcenix,  painted  clear,  the  bird  that  lives  eternal  years. 
For  she  from  the  cold  ashes  of  life  at  its  last  wane, 
Takes  hope,  and  spreads  her  wings  and  soars  through  skyey 

tracks  again. 
And  there  a  hunter  draws  his  bow  outlined  with  skilful  thread, 


THE  JEALOUS    KING  29 

And  underneath  a  word  which  says,  '  Nay,  shoot  not  at  the 

dead.' 
Thus  spake  the  Moorish  maiden,  and  in  her  eyes  were  tears  of 

grief, 

Tho'  in  her  busy  needle  she  seemed  to  find  relief. 
And  the  kindly  countess  called  from  far :   "  Zara,  what  aileth 

thee? 
Where  art  thou  ?    For  I  called,  and  yet  thou  didst  not  answer 

me." 


THE  JEALOUS  KING 

Twas  eight  stout  warriors  matched  with  eight,  and  ten  with 

valiant  ten, 

As  Aliatare  formed  a  band  allied  with  Moslem  men, 
To  joust,  with  loaded  canes,  that  day  in  proud  Toledo's  ring, 
Against  proud  Adelifa's  host  before  their  lord  the  King. 
The  King  by  proclamation  had  announced  the  knightly  play, 
For  the  cheerful  trumpets  sang  a  truce  upon  that  very  day ; 
And  Zaide,  high  Belchite's  the  King,  had  sworn  that  war 

should  cease, 

And  with  Tarfe  of  Valentia  had  ratified  the  peace. 
But  others  spread  the  news,  that  flew  like  fire  from  tongue  to 

tongue, 
That  the  King  was  doting-mad  with  love,  for  then  the  King 

was  young; 

And  had  given  to  Celindaja  the  ordering  of  the  day. 
And  there  were  knights  beside  the  King  she  loved  to  see  at 

play. 

And  now  the  lists  are  opened  and,  lo !  a  dazzling  band, 
The  Saracens,  on  sorrel  steeds  leap  forth  upon  the  sand; 
Their  trailing  cloaks  are  flashing  like  the  golden  orange  rind, 
The  hoods  of  green  from  their  shoulders  hang  and  flutter  in 

the  wind. 

They  carry  targets  blazoned  bright  with  scimitars  arow, 
But  each  deadly  blade  is  deftly  made  into  a  Cupid's  bow. 
A  shining  legend  can  be  seen  in  letters  ranged  above ; 
And  "  Fire  and  Blood  "  the  motto  runs.     It  speaks  of  war  and 

love. 


30  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

In  double  file  a  company  of  warriors  succeed ; 

The  bold  Aliatares  come  mounted  on  Arab  steeds. 

The  livery  that  they  wear  is  dyed  in  tint  of  crimson  red ; 

And  flower  and  leaf  in  white  relief  its  surface  overspread. 

The  globe  of  heaven,  which  many  a  star  and  constellation 

strow, 

Borne  upon  Atlas'  shoulders,  is  the  blazon  that  they  show. 
And  a  Moor  of  Aliatar  this  motto  does  express, 
Written  upon  a  streamer,  "  I  Endure  through  Weariness." 
The  Adelifas  follow ;  a  mighty  race  are  they. 
Their  armor  is  more  costly,  their  mantles  are  more  gay. 
Of  bright  carnation  is  the  web,  enriched  with  saffron  streaks, 
And  for  favors  there  are  fluttering  veils  upon  their  helmet 

peaks. 

A  globe  they  blazon  on  their  shields,  but  it  is  bruised  and  broke 
By  a  savage  with  a  bludgeon,  who  deals  it  many  a  stroke ; 
And  a  rod,  and  underneath  it  this  motto  tells  the  tale, 
All  written  in  Arabian  scrip.     It  says,  "  The  Strong  Prevail." 
The  eight  Azarques  following  these  into  the  plaza  spring, 
With  air  of  haughty  arrogance  they  gallop  round  the  ring. 
Of  blue  and  purple  and  pale  gold  are  the  mantles  that  they 

wear, 

And  for  plumes  they  carry  amulets  that  dangle  high  in  air. 
On  their  left  arm  are  their  targets,  painted  a  dazzling  green. 
The  orb  of  heaven  is  outlined  there  on  which  two  hands  are 

seen, 

The  motto,  "  Green  is  paramount,"  is  lettered  full  in  view ; 
Its  arrogance  explains  to  all  those  targets'  vivid  hue. 
Then  foams  the  King  in  rage  to  see  his  doting  love  was  fleered, 
And  his  heart  is  filled  with  bitter  thought  as  that  proud  shield 

appeared. 

And  he  called  the  warden  of  his  keep,  Celin  his  henchman  tried, 
And  he  pointed  to  Azarque,  and,  flushed  with  anger,  cried — 
"  The  sun  upon  that  haughty  shield  myself  will  bid  it  set ; 
It  works  some  mischief  upon  me,  like  an  evil  amulet. 
Azarque  drew  his  ready  lance,  his  strong  arm  hurled  it  high, 
The  light  shaft  soared  amid  the  clouds,  and  vanished  in  the  sky. 
And  those  whose  vision  followed  it  grew  dizzy  at  the  sight, 
They  knew  not  whither  it  had  flown,  nor  where  it  would  alight. 


THE  JEALOUS    KING  3I 

The  ladies  of  the  burgesses  at  many  a  window  press 
To  see  the  javelin  from  his  hand  rise  with  such  readiness, 
And  those  who  on  the  platform  were  seated  with  the  King 
Bent  back  to  see  how  well  the  cane  that  gallant  Moor  could 

fling. 

And  as  Azarque  forward  rides,  as  in  retreat  he  flies, 
"  Now,  Allah  guard  thee,  gallant  knight,"  with  shouts  the 

people  cries. 

"  My  curse  upon  him ;  he  shall  die,"  the  jealous  King  replies. 
But  Celindaja  paid  no  heed  to  all  that  cavalcade ; 
Her  lips  were  parched,  her  throat  was  dry,  her  heart  was  sore 

dismayed. 
She  asked  that  they  would  bring  her  fruit,  but  yet  she  strove 

in  vain 

With  juice  of  any  earthly  tree  to  slake  her  fevered  pain. 
"  Now  let  the  sport  be  ended,"  the  angry  King  decreed. 
The  joust  was  late,  and  every  judge  in  weariness  agreed. 
And  as  they  closed  the  empty  lists,  they  heard  the  King's  com- 
mand, 

"  Now  seize,  now  seize  Azarque,  a  traitor  to  this  land." 
The  double  lines  of  cavaliers  who  led  the  jousting  train 
Threw  down  upon  the  open  square  the  spear  of  idle  cane ; 
Then  swiftly  seized  the  lance  of  steel  and  couching  it  for  fight, 
According  to  the  royal  wish  rode  down  upon  the  knight. 
For  arms  and  plea  must  ever  bootless  prove 
To  curb  the  passions  of  a  king  in  love. 

The  other  band  came  forth  to  save  Azarque  from  his  foes, 

But  the  stout  Moor  waves  his  hand  to  them  ere  they  in  battle 
close, 

Then  calmly  cries :    "  Tho'  love,  it  seems,  has  no  respect  for 
law, 

'Tis  right  that  ye  keep  peace  to-day  and  from  the  lists  with- 
draw! 

Nay,  gentlemen,  your  lances  lower  before  it  be  too  late ; 

And  let  our  foes  their  lances  raise,  in  sign  of  passion's  hate ; 

Thus  without  blood  accorded  be  a  victory  and  defeat. 

'Tis  only  bloodshed  makes  the  one  more  bitter  or  more  sweet, 
For  arms  or  reason  unavailing  prove 
To  curb  the  passions  of  a  king  in  love." 


32 

At  last  they  seize  the  struggling  Moor,  the  chains  are  on  his 

hands ; 
And  the  populace,  with  anger  filled,  arrange  themselves  in 

bands. 

They  place  a  guard  at  every  point,  in  haste  to  set  him  free, 
But  where  the  brave  commander  who  shall  lead  to  victory? 
And  where  the  leader  who  shall  shout  and  stir  their  hearts  to 

fight? 

These  are  but  empty  braggarts,  but  prowlers  of  the  night, 
Cut-throats  and  needy  idlers — and  so  the  tumult  ends — 
Azarque  lies  in  prison,  forsaken  by  his  friends. 
For,  ah,  both  arms  and  reason  powerless  prove 
To  turn  the  purpose  of  a  king  in  love. 

Alone  does  Celindaja  the  coward  crowd  implore, 

"  Oh,  save  him,  save  him,  generous  friends,  give  back  to  me 

my  Moor." 

She  stands  upon  the  balcony  and  from  that  lofty  place 
Would  fling  herself  upon  the  stones  to  save  him  from  disgrace. 
Her  mother  round  the  weeping  girl  has  flung  her  withered  arm. 
"  O  fool,"  she  whispers  in  her  ear,  "  in  Mary's  name  be  calm !  " 
Thou  madly  rushest  to  thy  death  by  this  distracted  show. 
Surely  thou  knowest  well  this  truth,  if  anyone  can  know, 

How  arms  and  reason  powerless  prove 

To  turn  the  purpose  of  a  king  in  love. 

Then  came  a  message  of  the  King,  in  which  the  monarch  said 
That  a  house  wherein  his  kindred  dwelt  must  be  a  prison  made. 
Then  Celindaja,  white  with  rage :    "  Go  to  the  King  and  say 
I  choose  to  be  my  prison-house  for  many  and  many  a  day, 
The  memory  of  Azarque,  in  which  henceforth  I  live : 
But  the  treachery  of  a  monarch  my  heart  will  not  forgive. 
For  the  will  of  one  weak  woman  shall  never  powerless  prove 
To  turn  the  foolish  purpose  of  a  king  who  is  in  love. 

"  Alas  for  thee,  Toledo !  in  former  times  they  said 
That  they  called  thee  for  vengeance  upon  a  traitor's  head. 
But  now  'tis  not  on  traitors,  but  on  loyal  men  and  true 
That  they  call  to  thee  for  vengeance,  which  to  caitiff  hearts 
are  due. 


THE   LOVERS   OF   ANTEQUERA  33 

And  Tagus  gently  murmurs  in  his  billows  fresh  and  free 

And  hastens  from  Toledo  to  reach  the  mighty  sea." 

E'er  she  said  more,  'they  seized  the  dame,  and  led  her  to  the 

gate, 
Where  the  warden  of  the  castle  in  solemn  judgment  sate. 


THE  LOVERS   OF  ANTEQUERA 

The  brave  Hamete  reined  his  steed  and  from  the  crupper  bent, 

To  greet  fair  Tartagona,  who  saw  him  with  content, 

The  daughter  of  Zulema,  who  had  many  a  foe  repelled 

From  the  castle  on  the  hill,  which  he  in  Archidora  held; 

For  six-and-thirty  years  he  kept  the  Christian  host  at  bay, 

A  watchful  warden,  fearless  of  the  stoutest  foes'  array. 

And  now  adown  the  well-known  path,  a  secret  path  and  sure, 

Led  by  the  noble  lady,  hurried  the  gallant  Moor. 

The  sentinels  beneath  the  wall  were  careless,  or  they  slept ; 

They  heeded  not  Hamete  as  down  the  slope  he  crept. 

And  when  he  reached  the  level  plain,  full  twenty  feet  away, 

He  hobbled  fast  his  courser,  lest  he  should  farther  stray. 

Then  to  the  Moorish  lady  he  turned,  as  if  to  speak, 

Around  her  waist  he  flung  his  arms  and  kissed  her  on  the 

cheek. 

"  O  goddess  of  my  heart,"  he  said,  "  by  actions  I  will  prove, 
If  thou  wilt  name  some  high  emprise,  how  faithful  is  my  love ! 
And  in  Granada  I  am  great,  and  have  much  honored  been, 
Both  by  the  King  Fernando  and  Isabel  his  Queen. 
My  name  is  high,  my  lineage  long,  yet  none  of  all  my  line 
Have  reached  the  pitch  of  glory  which  men  allow  is  mine. 
Narvarez  is  a  knight  of  name,  in  love  and  arms  adept, 
In  Antequera's  castle  he  well  the  marches  kept. 
Jarifa  was  a  captive  maid,  he  loved  Jarifa  well, 
And  oft  the  maiden  visited  within  her  prison  cell. 
And,  if  the  thing  with  honor  and  virtuous  heart  may  be, 
What  he  did  with  Jarifa,  that  would  I  do  with  thee." 
A  star  was  shining  overhead  upon  the  breast  of  night, 
The  warrior  turned  his  course,  and  led  the  lady  by  its  light. 
They  reached  the  foot  of  one  tall  rock,  and  stood  within  the 

shade, 
3 


34  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Where  thousand  thousand  ivy  leaves  a  bower  of  beauty  made. 
They  heard  the  genet  browsing  and  stamping  as  he  fed, 
And  smiling  Love  his  pinions  over  the  lovers  spread. 
But  ere  they  reached  the  pleasant  bower,  they  saw  before  them 

stand, 
Armed  to  the  teeth,  with  frowning  face,  a  strange  and  savage 

band. 
Yes,  seventy  men  with  sword  in  hand  surrounded  dame  and 

knight, 

The  robbers  of  the  mountain,  and  they  trembled  at  the  sight ! 
With  one  accord  these  freebooters  upon  Hamete  fell, 
Like  hounds  that  on  the  stag  at  bay  rush  at  the  hunter's  call, 
Burned  the  Moor's  heart  at  once  with  wrath,  at  once  with  pas- 
sion's flame, 

To  save  the  life  and,  more  than  life,  the  honor  of  his  dame. 
Straight  to  his  feet  he  sprung  and  straight  he  drew  his  mighty 

sword, 

And  plunged  into  the  robber  crowd  and  uttered  not  a  word. 
No  jousting  game  was  e'er  so  brisk  as  that  which  then  he 

waged ; 

On  arm  and  thigh  with  deadly  blow  the  slashing  weapon  raged ; 
Though  certain  was  his  death,  yet  still,  with  failing  heart,  he 

prayed 

That  till  his  lady  could  escape,  that  death  might  be  delayed. 
But,  in  the  dark,  a  deadly  stone,  flung  with  no  warning  sound, 
Was  buried  in  his  forehead  and  stretched  him  on  the  ground. 
The  breath  his  heaving  bosom  left  and,  from  his  nerveless 

hand, 
The  sword  fell  clattering  to  the  ground,  before  that  bloody 

band. 

And  when  the  damsel  saw  herself  within  those  caitiffs'  power, 
And  saw  the  city  mantled  in  the  darkness  of  the  hour, 
No  grief  that  ever  woman  felt  was  equal  to  her  pain, 
And  no  despair  like  that  of  hers  shall  e'er  be  known  again. 
Those  villains  did  not  see  those  locks,  that  shone  like  threads 

of  gold ; 

Only  the  summer  sunlight  their  wondrous  beauty  told. 
They  did  not  mark  the  glittering  chain  of  gold  and  jewels  fine, 
That  in  the  daylight  would  appear  her  ivory  throat  to  twine. 
But  straight  she  took  the  scimitar,  that  once  her  lover  wore, 


TARFE'S   TRUCE 


35 


It  lay  amid  the  dewy  grass,  drenched  to  the  hilt  in  gore. 
And,    falling  on  the  bloody   point,   she   pierced   her   bosom 

through, 
And  Tartagona  breathed  her  last,  mourned  by  that  robber 

crew. 

And  there  she  lay,  clasping  in  death  her  lover's  lifeless  face, 
Her  valor's  paragon,  and  she  the  glass  of  woman's  grace. 
And  since  that  hour  the  tale  is  told,  while  many  a  tear-drop 

falls, 

Of  the  lovers  of  the  vega  by  Antequera's  walls. 
And  they  praise  the  noble  lady  and  they  curse  the  robber  band, 
And  they  name  her  the  Lucretia  of  fair  Andalusia's  land. 
And  if  the  hearer  of  the  tale  should  doubt  that  it  be  true, 
Let  him  pass  along  the  mountain  road,  till  Ronda  comes  in 

view, 

There  must  he  halt  and  searching  he  may  the  story  trace 
In  letters  that  are  deeply  cut  on  the  rocky  mountain's  face. 


TARFE'S  TRUCE 

"  Oho,  ye  Catholic  cavaliers 

Who  eye  Granada  day  and  night, 
On  whose  left  shoulder  is  the  cross, 
The  crimson  cross,  your  blazon  bright. 

"  If  e'er  your  youthful  hearts  have  felt 

The  flame  of  love  that  brings  delight, 
As  angry  Mars,  in  coat  of  steel, 
Feels  the  fierce  ardor  of  the  fight; 

"  If  'tis  your  will,  within  our  walls, 

To  join  the  joust,  with  loaded  reed, 

As  ye  were  wont,  beneath  these  towers 

The  bloody  lance  of  war  to  speed ; 

"  If  bloodless  tumult  in  the  square 

May  serve  instead  of  battle's  fray, 
And,  donning  now  the  silken  cloak, 
Ye  put  the  coat  of  steel  away; 


36  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

"  Six  troops  of  Saracens  are  here ; 

Six  Christian  troops,  with  targe  and  steed 
Be  ready,  when  the  day  is  fixed, 
To  join  the  jousting  of  the  reed. 

"  For  'tis  not  right  that  furious  war, 

Which  sets  the  city's  roofs  in  flames, 
Should  kindle  with  a  fruitless  fire 
The  tender  bosom  of  our  dames. 

"  In  spite  of  all  we  suffer  here 

Our  ladies  are  with  you  arrayed, 
They  pity  you  in  this  fierce  war, 
This  labor  of  the  long  blockade. 

"  Amid  the  hardships  of  the  siege 

Let  pleasure  yield  a  respite  brief; 
(For  war  must  ever  have  its  truce) 
And  give  our  hardships  some  relief. 

"  What  solace  to  the  war-worn  frame, 

To  every  soul  what  blest  release, 
To  fling  aside  the  targe  and  mail, 
And  don  one  hour  the  plumes  of  peace ! 

"  And  he  who  shall  the  victor  be 

Among  the  j ousters  of  the  game, 
I  pledge  my  knightly  word  to  him, 
In  token  of  his  valorous  fame, 

"  On  his  right  arm  myself  to  bind 
The  favor  of  my  lady  bright ; 
'Twas  given  me  by  her  own  white  hand, 
The  hand  as  fair  as  it  is  white." 

'Twas  thus  that  Tarfe,  valiant  Moor, 
His  proclamation  wrote  at  large ; 

He,  King  Darraja's  favored  squire, 
Has  nailed  the  cartel  to  his  targe. 

'Twas  on  the  day  the  truce  was  made, 
By  Calatrava's  master  bold, 


TARFE'S   TRUCE 

To  change  the  quarters  of  his  camp, 
And  with  his  foes  a  conference  hold. 

Six  Moorish  striplings  Tarfe  sent 

In  bold  Abencerraje's  train — 
His  kindred  both  in  race  and  house —  t 

To  meet  the  leaguers  on  the  plain. 

In  every  tent  was  welcome  warm; 

And  when  their  challenge  they  display, 
The  master  granted  their  request 

To  join  the  joust  on  Easter  day. 

In  courteous  words  that  cartel  bold 

He  answered;  and  a  cavalcade 
Of  Christians,  with  the  Moorish  guards, 

Their  journey  to  Granada  made. 

The  guise  of  war  at  once  was  dropped; 

The  armory  closed  its  iron  door; 
And  all  put  on  the  damask  robes 

That  at  high  festival  they  wore. 

The  Moorish  youths  and  maidens  crowd, 
With  joyful  face,  the  city  square; 

These  mount  their  steeds,  those  sit  and  braid 
Bright  favors  for  their  knights  to  wear. 

Those  stern  antagonists  in  war, 

Like  friends,  within  the  town  are  met ; 

And  peacefully  they  grasp  the  hand, 
And  for  one  day  the  past  forget. 

And  gallant  Almarada  comes 

(Not  Tarfe's  self  more  brave,  I  ween), 
Lord  of  a  lovely  Moorish  dame, 

Who  rules  her  lover  like  a  queen. 

A  hundred  thousand  favors  she 

In  public  or  in  private  gives, 
To  show  her  lover  that  her  life 

Is  Almarada's  while  she  lives! 


37 


38  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

And  once  upon  a  cloudy  night, 
Fit  curtain  for  his  amorous  mood, 

The  gallant  Moor  the  high  hills  scaled 
And  on  Alhambra's  terrace  stood. 

Arrived,  he  saw  a  Moorish  maid 
Stand  at  a  window  opened  wide; 

He  gave  her  many  a  precious  gem ; 
He  gave  her  many  a  gift  beside. 

He  spoke  and  said :    "  My  lady  fair, 

Though  I  have  never  wronged  him,  still 

Darraja  stands  upon  the  watch, 
By  fair  or  foul,  to  do  me  ill. 

"Those  eyes  of  thine,  which  hold  more  hearts 
Than  are  the  stars  that  heaven  displays ; 

That  slay  more  Moors  with  shafts  of  love 
Than  with  his  sword  the  master  slays ; 

"  When  will  they  soften  at  my  smile  ? 

And  when  wilt  thou,  my  love,  relent? 
Let  Tarfe  go,  whose  words  are  big, 

While  his  sword-arm  is  impotent ! 

"  Thou  seest  I  am  not  such  as  he ; 

His  haughty  words,  so  seldom  true, 
Are  filled  with  boasting ;  what  he  boasts 

This  sturdy  arm  of  mine  can  do. 

"  My  arm,  my  lance,  ah !  well  'tis  known 
How  oft  in  battle's  darkest  hour 

They  saved  Granada's  city  proud 

From  yielding  to  the  Christian's  power." 

Thus  amorous  Almarada  spoke 

When  Tarfe  came  and  caught  the  word; 

And  as  his  ear  the  message  seized, 

His  right  hand  seized  upon  his  sword. 

Yet  did  he  deem  some  Christian  troop 
Was  in  the  darkness  hovering  by ; 


THE  TWO   MOORISH    KNIGHTS 

And  at  the  thought,  with  terror  struck, 
He  turned  in  eager  haste  to  fly ! 

Darraja  roused  him  at  the  din; 

And  with  loud  voice  to  Tarfe  spoke; 
He  knew  him  from  his  cloak  of  blue, 

For  he  had  given  the  Moor  that  cloak ! 


THE  TWO  MOORISH  KNIGHTS 

Upon  two  mares  both  strong  and  fleet, 
White  as  the  cygnet's  snowy  wing, 

Beneath  Granada's  arching  gate 
Passed  Tarfe  and  Belchite's  King. 

Like  beauty  marks  the  dames  they  serve ; 

Like  colors  at  their  spear-heads  wave ; 
While  Tarfe  kneels  at  Celia's  feet, 

The  King  is  Dorelice's  slave. 

With  belts  of  green  and  azure  blue 
The  gallant  knights  are  girded  fair; 

Their  cloaks  with  golden  orange  glow, 
And  verdant  are  the  vests  they  wear. 

And  gold  and  silver,  side  by  side, 

Are  glittering  on  their  garment's  hem ; 

And,  mingled  with  the  metals,  shine 
The  lights  of  many  a  costly  gem. 

Their  veils  are  woven  iron-gray, 
The  melancholy  tint  of  woe — 

And  o'er  their  heads  the  dusky  plumes 
Their  grief  and  desolation  show. 

And  each  upon  his  target  bears 
Emblazoned  badges,  telling  true 

Their  passion  and  their  torturing  pangs, 
In  many  a  dark  and  dismal  hue. 


39 


40  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

The  King's  device  shines  on  his  shield — 
A  seated  lady,  passing  fair; 

A  monarch,  with  a  downcast  eye, 
Before  the  dame  is  kneeling  there. 

His  crown  is  lying  at  her  feet 
That  she  may  spurn  it  in  disdain; 

A  heart  in  flames  above  is  set; 
And  this  the  story  of  his  pain. 

"  In  frost  is  born  this  flame  of  love  " — 
Such  legend  circles  the  device — 

"  And  the  fierce  fire  in  which  I  burn 
Is  nourished  by  the  breath  of  ice." 

Upon  her  brow  the  lady  wears 
A  crown;  her  dexter  hand  sustains 

A  royal  sceptre,  gilded  bright, 

To  show  that  o'er  all  hearts  she  reigns. 

An  orb  in  her  left  hand  she  bears, 

For  all  the  world  her  power  must  feel ; 

There  Fortune  prostrate  lies;  the  dame 
Halts  with  her  foot  the  whirling  wheel. 

But  Tarfe's  shield  is  blank  and  bare, 
Lest  Adelifa  should  be  moved 

With  jealous  rage,  to  learn  that  he 
Her  Moorish  rival,  Celia,  loved. 

He  merely  blazons  on  his  targe 
A  peaceful  olive-branch,  and  eyes 

That  sparkle  in  a  beauteous  face, 
Like  starlets  in  the  autumn  skies. 

And  on  the  branch  of  olive  shines 
This  legend :  "If  thy  burning  ray 

Consume  me  with  the  fire  of  love, 
See  that  I  wither  not  away." 

They  spurred  their  horses  as  they  saw 
The  ladies  their  approach  surveyed; 


THE   TWO   MOORISH    KNIGHTS  41 

And  when  they  reached  their  journey's  end 
The  King  to  Dorelice  said: 

"The  goddesses  who  reign  above 

With  envy  of  thy  beauty  tell; 
When  heaven  and  glory  are  thy  gifts, 

Why  should  I  feel  the  pangs  of  hell? 

"  Oh,  tell  me  what  is  thy  desire  ? 

And  does  heaven's  light  more  pleasure  bring 
Than  to  own  monarchs  as  thy  slaves, 

And  be  the  heiress  to  a  king? 

"  I  ask  from  thee  no  favor  sweet ; 

Nor  love  nor  honor  at  thy  hand; 
But  only  that  thou  choose  me  out 

The  servant  of  thy  least  command. 

"  The  choicest  nobles  of  the  realm 

The  glory  of  this  office  crave ; 
The  lowliest  soldier,  with  delight, 

Would  die  to  prove  himself  thy  slave. 

"  Each  life,  each  heart  is  at  thy  feet ; 

Thou  with  a  thousand  hearts  mayst  live ; 
And  if  thou  wouldst  not  grant  my  prayer, 

Oh,  take  the  warning  that  I  give. 

"  For  there  are  ladies  in  the  court 

To  my  desires  would  fain  consent, 
And  lovely  Bendarrafa  once 

These  jealous  words  but  lately  sent: 

"  '  Those  letters  and  those  written  lines, 
Why  dost  thou  not  their  sense  divine  ? 

Are  they  not  printed  on  thy  heart 
As  thy  loved  image  is  on  mine  ? 

"'Why  art  thou  absent  still  so  long? 

It  cannot  be  that  thou  art  dead  ? ' ' 
Then  ceased  the  King  and  silent  stood, 

While  Tarfe  to  his  Celia  said: 


MOORISH    LITERATURE 

"  Celestial  Celia  be  thy  name ; 

Celestial  calm  is  on  thy  brow; 
Yet  all  the  radiance  of  thy  face 

Thy  cruelty  eclipses  now. 

"  A  witch  like  Circe  dost  thou  seem ; 

For  Circe  could  o'ercloud  the  sky ; 
Oh,  let  the  sun  appear  once  more, 

And  bid  the  clouds  of  darkness  fly! 

"  Ah,  would  to  God  that  on  the  feast, 
The  Baptist's  consecrated  day, 

I  might  my  arms  about  thee  fling 
And  lead  thee  from  thy  home  away. 

"  Yet  say  not  that  'tis  in  thy  power 
To  yield  or  all  my  hopes  to  kill ; 

For  thou  shalt  learn  that  all  the  world, 
In  leaguer,  cannot  bend  my  will. 

"  And  France  can  tell  how  many  a  time 
I  fought  upon  the  tented  field, 

And  forced  upon  their  bended  knee 
Her  loftiest  paladins  to  yield. 

"  I  vanquished  many  a  valiant  knight 
Who  on  his  shield  the  lilies  bore ; 

And  on  Vandalia's  plain  subdued 

Of  Red  Cross  warriors  many  a  score. 

"  The  noblest  I  had  brought  to  yield 

Upon  Granada's  gory  plain, 
Did  I  not  shrink  with  such  vile  blood 

The  honor  of  my  sword  to  stain." 

At  this  the  trumpets  called  to  arms ; 

Without  one  farewell  word  each  knight 
Turned  from  the  lady  of  his  heart 

And  spurred  his  steed  in  headlong  flight. 


THE   KING'S   DECISION 


43 


THE  KING'S  DECISION 

Amid  a  thousand  sapient  Moors 

From  Andalusia  came, 
Was  an  ancient  Moor,  who  ruled  the  land, 

Rey  Bucar  was  his  name. 

And  many  a  year  this  sage  had  dwelt 

With  the  lady  he  loved  best ; 
And  at  last  he  summoned  the  Cortes, 

As  his  leman  made  request. 

The  day  was  set  on  which  his  lords 

And  commoners  should  meet, 
And  they  talked  to  the  King  of  his  wide  realm's  need, 

As  the  King  sat  in  his  seat. 

And  many  the  laws  they  passed  that  day ; 

And  among  them  a  law  that  said 
That  the  lover  who  took  a  maid  for  his  love 

The  maid  of  his  choice  must  wed; 
And  he  who  broke  this  ordinance 

Should  pay  for  it  with  his  head. 

And  all  agreed  that  the  law  was  good; 

Save  a  cousin  of  the  King, 
Who  came  and  stood  before  him, 

With  complaint  and  questioning; 

"  This  law,  which  now  your  Highness 

Has  on  your  lieges  laid, 
I  like  it  not,  though  many  hearts 

It  has  exultant  made. 

"  Me  only  does  it  grieve,  and  bring 

Disaster  on  my  life ; 
For  the  lady  that  I  love  the  best, 

Is  already  wedded  wife; 

"  Wedded  she  is,  wedded  amiss ; 
111  husband  has  she  got, 


44  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

And  oft  does  pity  fill  my  heart 
For  her  distressful  lot. 

"  And  this  one  thing  I  tell  thee,  King, 
To  none  else  has  it  been  told : 

If  I  think  her  love  is  silver, 
She  thinks  my  love  is  gold." 

Then  spake  Rey  Bucar  in  reply, 
This  sentence  uttered  he: 

"  If  thy  love  be  wedded  wife,  the  law 
Hath  no  penalty  for  thee." 


ALMANZOR  AND  BOBALIAS 

The  King  Almanzor  slept  one  night, 

And,  oh !  his  sleep  was  blest ; 
Not  all  the  seven  Moorish  kings 

Could  dare  to  break  his  rest. 

The  infante  Bobalias 

Bethought  of  him  and  cried: 
"  Now  rouse  thee,  rouse  thee,  uncle  dear ! 

And  hasten  to  my  side. 

"  And  bid  them  fetch  the  ladders 
Owned  by  my  sire  the  King; 

And  the  seven  mules  that  carry  them 
Into  my  presence  bring. 

"  And  give  to  me  the  seven  stout  Moors 

Who  shall  their  harness  set, 
For  the  love,  the  love  of  the  countess 

I  never  can  forget." 

"  Ill-mannered  art  thou,  nephew, 

And  never  wilt  amend; 
The  sweetest  sleep  I  ever  slept, 

Thou  bringest  to  an  end." 


THE   MOORISH    INFANTA   AND  ALFONZO   RAMOS       45 

Now  they  have  brought  the  ladders 

Owned  by  his  sire  the  King. 
And,  to  bear  the  load  along  the  road, 

Seven  sturdy  mules  they  bring; 

And  seven  stout  Moors,  by  whom  the  mules 

In  housings  are  arrayed. 
And  to  the  walls  of  the  countess 

Their  journey  have  they  made. 
There,  at  the  foot  of  yonder  tower, 

They  halt  their  cavalcade. 

In  the  arms  of  the  count  Alminique 

The  countess  lay  at  rest; 
The  infante  has  ta'en  her  by  the  hand, 

And  caught  her  to  his  breast. 


THE  MOORISH  INFANTA  AND  ALFONZO  RAMOS 

Beneath  the  shade  of  an  olive-tree 

Stood  the  infanta  fair; 
A  golden  comb  was  in  her  hands, 

And  well  she  decked  her  hair. 

To  heaven  she  raised  her  eyes,  and  saw, 

That  early  morning-tide, 
A  clump  of  spears  and  an  armored  band 

From  Guadalquivir  ride. 

Alfonzo  Ramos  with  them  came, 

The  admiral  of  Castile. 
"  Now  welcome,  Alfonzo  Ramos ! 

Now  welcome,  steed  and  steel, 
What  tidings  do  you  bring  of  my  fleet, 

What  tidings  of  woe  or  weal  ?  " 

"  I'll  tell  thee  tidings,  lady, 

If  my  life  thou  wilt  assure." 
"  Tell  on,  Alfonzo  Ramos, 

Thy  life  shall  be  secure." 


46  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

•"  Seville,  Seville  has  fallen, 

To  the  arms  of  the  Berber  Moor." 

"  But  for  my  word  thy  head  this  day 
To  the  vultures  had  been  tost !  " 

"  If  head  of  mine  were  forfeited, 
'Tis  thine  must  pay  the  cost." 


THE  BULL-FIGHT  OF  ZULEMA 

He  was  a  valorous  gentleman,  a  gay  and  gallant  knight, 

Like  stars  on  heaven's  fifth  circle  was  the  splendor  of  his  might. 

In  peace,  accomplished  in  the  arts  of  great  Apollo's  choir, 

In  war,  the  brilliant  swordsman  that  Mars  might  well  admire. 

His  great  exploits  were  written  on  history's  brightest  page, 

And  rightly  was  he  reckoned  as  the  mirror  of  his  age ; 

Great  deeds  he  did  with  point  of  lance  and  won  bright  honor's 
crown, 

Before  the  year  when  each  red  cheek  was  clothed  in  manly 
down. 

And  such  he  was  through  all  the  world  by  minstrel  harps  ex- 
tolled, 

Both  for  the  vigor  of  his  arm  and  for  his  bearing  bold. 

His  very  foes,  whom  he  had  made  surrender  in  the  fight, 

While  trembling  at  his  valor,  asked  blessings  on  the  knight. 

And  Fame  herself,  whose  pace  is  swift,  whose  voice  like  fire 
can  run, 

Grew  weary  with  reciting  the  deeds  that  he  had  done. 

To  tell  aright  his  jeopardies,  escapes,  and  rescues  wrought, 

A  swifter-flying  pinion  and  a  louder  tongue  she  sought ! 

Such  was  Zulema,  such  was  he,  the  warrior  of  renown, 

The  son  of  that  Zulema  who  ruled  Toledo's  town. 

Ah !  bright  the  fame  the  father  left,  for  it  shall  never  die — 

The  glory  of  his  greater  son  shall  keep  its  memory. 

Now  once  it  happened  that  he  reached  a  city's  towering  gate ; 

'Twas  Avila,  and  there  that  day  the  games  they  celebrate. 

The  mighty  square,  when  he  arrived,  was  changed  into  a 
bower ; 

And  every  knight  wore  fluttering  plumes  and  every  dame  a 
flower. 


THE   BULL-FIGHT   OF   ZULEMA  47 

The  scene  was  strange,  because  the  Moor,  in  southern  cities 

reared, 

Had  never  seen  how  gay  Castile  on  festal  days  appeared. 
He  marked  the  Adelifas  in  the  King's  pavilion  stand, 
And  he  asked,  and  his  prayer  was  granted,  to  join  the  cham- 
pion band. 
Yet  when  they  gave  consent  they  feared  that  great  Zulema's 

might 

Would  surely  quite  excel  in  joust  the  best  Castilian  knight. 
But  a  thousand  times  they  asked  that  heaven  would  give  to  him 

success, 
And  a  thousand  times  they  wondered  at  his  glorious  Moorish 

dress. 

Full  many  a  lady's  beck  and  smile,  were  on  the  warrior  bent, 
And  they  looked  on  his  manly  beauty  and  they  sighed  with  deep 

content. 

But  now  Zulema  by  the  hand  the  wardens  take  and  greet, 
And  'mid  the  highest  noblemen  they  yield  the  knight  a  seat. 
His  seat  was  placed  in  honor  'mid  ladies  gay  and  bright, 
Mid  warriors  of  Castile,  the  first  in  courage  and  in  might. 
Then  suddenly,  more  swift  than  wind,  more  wild  than  comet's 

glare, 

Jerama's  bull,  far  famed  was  he,  rushed  on  the  crowded  square. 
Ah !  brave  was  he  in  flashing  eyes,  and  fierce  was  he  in  heart, 
His  brow  was  like  a  storm-cloud,  each  horn  a  giant's  dart, 
His  wide-spread  nostrils  snorted  fire,  his  neck  was  short  and 

deep, 

His  skin  was  black  as  the  thunder-cloud  that  crowns  the  moun- 
tain's steep. 

Before  his  coming  fled  the  crowd,  until  the  sunny  square 
Was  emptied  of  the  multitude,  and  every  stone  was  bare. 
Those  only  who  on  horseback  sat  remained  to  face  the  foe. 
Now  trembling  with  alarm  they  stand,  and  now  with  hope  they 

glow. 
Good  sport  they  looked  to  have  with  him,  and  lay  him  in  the 

dust, 

But  the  Andalusian  hero  evaded  every  thrust. 
And  sometimes,  with  a  gallant  charge  he  threw  them  from 

their  seat, 
He  gored  them  with  his  savage  horn,  and  trod  them  with  his 

feet ! 


48  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Ah !  great  the  shame  of  the  vanquished  knights ;  they  dared 

not  raise  their  eyes 

To  the  ladies  who  looked  down  and  smiled  from  banks  and  bal- 
conies. 
For  those  soft  eyes  were  fixed  no  more  upon  each  vanquished 

knight, 
But  on  the  monster  proud  and  strong  who  conquered  them  in 

fight. 

The  dames  upon  the  royal  seat  to  Zulema  turned  their  eyes, 
And  one,  the  loveliest  of  them  all,  who  wore  a  strange  disguise, 
Yet  through  her  veil  such  rays  she  shot  that  she  seemed  like 

the  sun  on  high 
When  he  rises,  quenching  all  the  stars  that  filled  the  midnight 

sky. 

She  made  a  sign  to  him  and  spoke  directly  from  her  heart, 
Whose  tongue  is  in  a  woman's  eye.     Ah !  well  it  plays  its  part ! 
She  bade  him  to  redeem  the  day  and  avenge  each  gallant  knight 
Who  had  fallen  in  the  dust  before  the  foe  in  stubborn  fight. 
And  the  Moor  with  gracious  mien  assents,  and  from  his  seat 

descends ; 

But  first  with  glance  and  waving  scarf  a  tender  message  sends 
To  the  lovely  Moorish  damsel  who  had  called  him  to  the  fray, 
And  had  filled  his  heart  with  sudden  love  upon  the  festal  day. 
And  as  he  leapt  into  the  sand  it  was  as  if  he  flew, 
For  love  lent  wings  at  his  lady's  nod,  some  glorious  deed  to  do. 
And  when  the  bull  beheld  approach,  upon  the  bloody  sand, 
His  bold  and  tall  antagonist,  a  dagger  in  his  hand, 
He  roared  like  thunder,  with  his  hoofs  he  pawed  the  dusty 

ground, 

The  plaza  shook,  the  castle  tower  re-echoed  to  the  sound ! 
Long  subject  to  the  hand  of  man,  and  in  subjection  born, 
He  thought  to  subject  human  foe  to  hoof  and  mighty  horn. 
Zulema  started  toward  the  beast,  loud  cries  would  hold  him 

back, 

But  well  he  knew  that  victory  would  follow  his  attack. 
The  bull  was  on  him  with  a  bound,  and,  glaring  face  to  face, 
They  stood  one  moment,  while  a  hush  fell  on  the  crowded  place. 
With  bold  right  hand  Zulema  drew  his  keen  and  mighty  blade ; 
Blow  after  blow  'mid  blood  and  dust  upon  his  foe  he  laid ; 
The  startled  beast  retired  before  such  onslaught  of  his  foe, 


THE   RENEGADE 


49 


And  the  people  shouted  loud  applause  and  the  King  himself 

bowed  low. 
The  bull  with  tossing  head  roared  forth  a  challenge  to  the 

knight, 
As  Zulema  turned,  and  with  a  bound  rushed  to  the  desperate 

fight. 
Ah!  cruel  were  the  strokes  that  rained  upon  that  foaming 

flank! 

Into  the  sand  that  life-blood  like  a  shower  of  autumn  sank. 
He  roars,  he  snorts,  he  spurns  the  ground,  the  bloody  dust  flies 

high, 

Now  here,  now  there,  in  angry  pain  they  see  the  monster  fly. 
He  turns  to  see  what  new-found  foe  has  crossed  his  path  to-day ; 
But  when  Zulema  faces  him  he  stops  to  turn  away. 
For  the  third  time  the  fight  begins ;  the  bull  with  many  a  roar 
Turns  to  his  foe,  while  from  his  lips  run  mingled  foam  and 

gore. 

The  Moor  enraged  to  see  the  beast  again  before  him  stand, 
Deals  him  the  deep,  the  fatal  wound,  with  an  unerring  hand. 
That  wound,  at  last,  has  oped  the  gate  through  which  may 

enter  death, 
And  staggering  to  the  dust  the  beast  snorts  forth  his  latest 

breath. 

As  the  bull  falls,  the  crowded  square  rings  with  a  loud  acclaim, 
And  envy  burns  in  many  a  knight,  and  love  in  many  a  dame. 
The  highest  nobles  of  the  land  the  conqueror  embrace; 
He  sees  the  blush  of  passion  burn  on  many  a  damsel's  face. 
And  Fame  has  blown  her  trumpet  and  flies  from  town  to  town, 
And  Apollo  takes  his  pen  and  writes  the  hero's  title  down. 


THE  RENEGADE 

Through  the  mountains  of  Moncayo, 

Lo!  all  in  arms  arrayed, 
Rides  pagan  Bobalias, 

Bobalias  the  renegade. 

Seven  times  he  was  a  Moor,  seven  times 

To  Christ  he  trembling  turned ; 
4 


MOORISH    LITERATURE 

At  the  eighth,  the  devil  cozened  him 
And  the  Christian  cross  he  spurned, 

And  took  back  the  faith  of  Mahomet, 
In  childhood  he  had  learned. 

He  was  the  mightiest  of  the  Moors, 

And  letters  from  afar 
Had  told  him  how  Sevila 

Was  marshalling  for  war. 

He  arms  his  ships  and  galleys, 

His  infantry  and  horse,    . 
And  straight  to  Guadalquivir's  flood 
His  pennons  take  their  course. 

The  flags  that  on  Tablada's  plain 

Above  his  camp  unfold, 
Flutter  above  three  hundred  tents 

Of  silk  brocade  and  gold. 

In  the  middle,  the  pavilion 
Of  the  pagan  they  prepare; 

On  the  summit  a  ruby  stone  is  set, 
A  jewel  rich  and  rare. 

It  gleams  at  morn,  and  when  the  night 
Mantles  the  world  at  length, 

It  pours  a  ray  like  the  light  of  day, 
When  the  sun  is  at  its  strength. 


THE  TOWER  OF  GOLD 

Brave  Arbolan  a  prisoner  lay 

Within  the  Tower  of  Gold ; 
By  order  of  the  King  there  stood 

Four  guards  to  keep  the  hold. 
'Twas  not  because  against  his  King 

He  played  a  treacherous  part; 
But  only  that  Guhala's  charms 

Had  won  the  captive's  heart. 


THE   TOWER   OF    GOLD 

"  Guhala,  Guhala, 
My  longing  heart  must  cry; 

This  mournful  vow  I  utter  now — 
To  see  thee  or  to  die." 

No  longer  free  those  sturdy  limbs! 

Revenge  had  bid  them  bind 
The  iron  chain  on  hands  and  feet; 

They  could  not  chain  his  mind! 
How  dolorous  was  the  warrior's  lot! 

All  hope  at  last  had  fled ; 
And,  standing  at  the  window, 

With  sighing  voice  he  said: 

"  Guhala,  Guhala, 
My  longing  heart  must  cry ; 

This  mournful  vow  I  utter  now — 
To  see  thee  or  to  die." 

He  turned  his  eyes  to  where  the  banks 

Of  Guadalquivir  lay; 
"  Inhuman  King !  "  in  grief  he  cried, 

"  Thy  mandates  I  obey ; 
Thou  bidst  them  load  my  limbs  with  steel ; 

Thy  cruel  sentinel 
Keeps  watch  beside  my  prison  door; 

Yet  who  my  crime  can  tell? 

"  Guhala,  Guhala, 
My  longing  heart  must  cry; 

This  mournful  vow  I  utter  now — 
To  see  thee  or  to  die." 


51 


52  MOORISH    LITERATURE 


THE   DIRGE   FOR   ALIATAR 

No  azure-hued  tahalia  now 
Flutters  about  each  warrior's  browj 
No  crooked  scimitars  display 
Their  gilded  scabbards  to  the  day. 
The  Afric  turbans,  that  of  yore 
Were  fashioned  on  Morocco's  shore, 
To-day  their  tufted  crown  is  bare; 
There  are  no  fluttering  feathers  there. 
In  mourning  garments  all  are  clad, 
Fit  harness  for  the  occasion  sad; 
But,  four  by  four  the  mighty  throng 
In  slow  procession  streams  along. 
Ah !  Aliatar !  well  he  knew 
The  soldiers  of  his  army  true, 
The  soldiers  whose  afflicted  strain 
Gives  utterance  to  their  bosom's  pain. 

Sadly  we  march  along  the  crowded  street, 

While  trumpets  hoarsely  blare  and  drums  tempestuous  beat. 

The  phoenix  that  would  shine  in  gold 
On  the  high  banner's  fluttering  fold, 
Scarce  can  the  breeze  in  gladness  bring 
To  spread  aloft  its  waving  wing. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  fire  of  death 
For  the  first  time  had  quenched  her  breath. 
For  tribulation  o'er  the  world 
The  mantle  of  despair  had  furled ; 
There  was  no  breeze  the  ground  to  bless, 
The  plain  lay  panting  in  distress; 
Beneath  the  trailing  silken  shroud 
Alfarez  carried  through  the  crowd. 

Sadly  we  march  along  the  crowded  street, 

While  trumpets  hoarsely  blare  and  drums  tempestuous  beat. 

For  Aliatar,  one  sad  morn, 
Mounted  his  steed  and  blew  his  horn ; 


THE   DIRGE   FOR  ALIATAR  53 

A  hundred  Moors  behind  him  rode; 
Fleeter  than  wind  their  coursers  strode. 
Toward  Motril  their  course  is  made, 
While  foes  the  castle  town  blockade; 
There  Aliatar's  brother  lay, 
Pent  by  the  foes  that  fatal  day. 
Woe  work  the  hour,  the  day,  when  he 
Vaulted  upon  his  saddle-tree! 
Ne'er  from  that  seat  should  he  descend 
To  challenge  foe  or  welcome  friend, 
Nor  knew  he  that  the  hour  was  near, 
His  couch  should  be  the  funeral  bier. 

Sadly  we  march  along  the  crowded  street, 

While  trumpets  hoarsely  blare  and  drums  tempestuous  beat. 

That  day  the  master's  knights  were  sent, 

As  if  on  sport  and  jousting  bent ; 

And  Aliatar,  on  his  way, 

By  cruel  ambush  they  betray ; 

With  sword  and  hauberk  they  surround 

And  smite  the  warrior  to  the  ground. 

And  wounded  deep  from  every  vein 

He  bleeding  lies  upon  the  plain. 

The  furious  foes  in  deadly  fight 

His  scanty  followers  put  to  flight, 

In  panic-stricken  fear  they  fly, 

And  leave  him  unavenged  to  die. 

Sadly  we  march  along  the  crowded  street, 

While  trumpets  hoarsely  blare  and  drums  tempestuous  beat. 

Ah  sadly  swift  the  news  has  flown 
To  Zaida  in  the  silent  town ; 
Speechless  she  sat,  while  every  thought 
Fresh  sorrow  to  her  bosom  brought; 
Then  flowed  her  tears  in  larger  flood, 
Than  from  his  wounds  the  tide  of  blood. 
Like  dazzling  pearls  the  tear-drops  streak 
The  pallid  beauty  of  her  cheek. 


54  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Say,  Love,  and  didst  thou  e'er  behold 
A  maid  more  fair  and  knight  more  bold? 
And  if  thou  didst  not  see  him  die, 
And  Zaida's  tears  of  agony, 
The  bandage  of  thine  orbs  draw  tight — 
That  thou  mayst  never  meet  the  sight!' 

Sadly  we  march  along  the  crowded  street, 

While  trumpets  hoarsely  blare  and  drums  tempestuous  beat. 

Not  only  Zaida's  eyes  are  wet, 

For  him  her  soul  shall  ne'er  forget ; 

But  many  a  heart  in  equal  share 

The  sorrow  of  that  lady  bare. 

Yes,  all  who  drink  the  water  sweet 

Where  Genii's  stream  and  Darro  meet, 

All  of  bold  Albaicins's  line, 

Who  mid  Alhambra's  princes  shine — 

The  ladies  mourn  the  warrior  high, 

Mirror  of  love  and  courtesy; 

The  brave  lament  him,  as  their  peer ; 

The  princes,  as  their  comrade  dear ; 

The  poor  deplore,  with  hearts  that  bleed, 

Their  shelter  in  the  time  of  need. 

Sadly  we  march  along  the  crowded  street, 

While  trumpets  hoarsely  blare  and  drums  tempestuous  beat. 


THE  SHIP  OF  ZARA 

It  was  the  Moorish  maiden,  the  fairest  of  the  fair, 
Whose  name  amid  the  Moorish  knights  was  worshipped  every- 
where. 

And  she  was  wise  and  modest,  as  her  race  has  ever  been, 
And  in  Alhambra's  palace  courts  she  waited  on  the  Queen, 
A  daughter  of  Hamete — of  royal  line  was  he, 
And  held  the  mighty  castle  of  Baja's  town  in  fee. 
Now  sad  and  mournful  all  the  day  the  maiden  weeping  sat, 
And  her  captive  heart  was  thinking  still  of  the  distant  caliphat, 
Which  in  the  stubborn  straits  of  war  had  passed  from  Moslem 
reign, 


THE   SHIP   OF    ZARA  55 

And  now  was  the  dominion  of  King  Ferdinand  of  Spain. 
She  thought  upon  the  dreary  siege  in  Baja's  desert  vale 
When  the  fight  was  long  and  the  food  of  beasts  and  men  began 

to  fail, 
And  her  wretched  father,  forced  to  yield,  gave  up  his  castle 

hold, 

For  falling  were  the  towers,  falling  fast  his  warriors  bold. 
And  Zara,  lovely  Zara,  did  he  give  into  the  care 
Of  the  noble  Countess  Palma,  who  loved  the  maiden  fair. 
And  the  countess  had  to  Baja  come  when  Queen  Isabella  came, 
The  lovely  vega  of  the  town  to  waste  with  sword  and  flame. 
And  the  countess  asked  of  Zara  if  she  were  skilled  in  aught, 
The  needle,  or  the  'broidery  frame,  to  Christian  damsels  taught. 
And  how  she  made  the  hours  go  by  when,  on  Guadalquivir's 

strand, 

She  sat  in  the  Alhambra,  a  princess  of  the  land. 
And,  while  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  the  Moorish  maid  re- 
plied : 

"  'Twas  I  the  silver  tinsel  fixed  on  garments  duly  dyed ; 
'Twas  I  who  with  deft  fingers  with  gold  lace  overlaid 
The  dazzling  robes  of  flowery  tint  of  velvet  and  brocade. 
And  sometimes  would  I  take  my  lute  and  play  for  dancers 

there ; 

And  sometimes  trust  my  own  weak  voice  in  some  romantic  air ; 
But  now,  this  moment,  I  retain  but  one,  one  mournful  art — 
To  weep,  to  mourn  the  banishment  that  ever  grieves  my  heart. 
And  since  'tis  thou  alone  whose  bread,  whose  roof  my  life  didst 

save, 

I  weep  the  bitterest  tears  of  all  because  I  am  a  slave ! 
Yet  wouldst  thou  deign,  O  lady  dear,  to  make  more  light 

to  me 

The  hours  I  pass  beneath  thy  roof,  in  dark  captivity, — 
I  bid  thee  build  for  me,  if  thou  approve  of  the  design, 
An  ocean  bark,  well  fitted  to  cross  the  surging  brine ; 
Let  it  be  swift,  let  it  be  strong,  and  leave  all  barks  behind, 
When  on  the  surges  of  the  main  it  feels  the  favoring  wind. 
We'll  launch  it  from  the  sloping  shore,  and,  when  the  wind 

is  high, 
And  the  fierce  billows  threatening  mix  their  foam-tops  with 

the  sky, 


56  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

We'll  lower  the  mainsail,  lest  the  storm  should  carry  us  away, 
And  sweep  us  on  the  reefs  that  lurk  in  some  deep  Afric  bay. 
And  on  the  lofty  topmast  shall  this  inscription  stand, 
Written  in  letters  which  they  use  in  every  Christian  land: 
'  This  ship  is  tossed  in  many  a  storm,  it  lands  on  many  a  shore, 
And  the  wide  sea,  beneath  the  wind,  it  swiftly  travels  o'er ; 
Tis  like  the  human  heart  which  brings  no  treasure  and  no  gain, 
Till,  tossed  by  hard  misfortune,  it  has  known  the  sea  of  pain.' 
And  let  there  be  upon  the  fringe  round  this  inscription  hung 
Another  legend  which  shall  say  in  the  Arabian  tongue : 
'  Oh,  might  it  be  that  Allah,  the  merciful,  would  send 
To  all  my  captive  miseries  a  swift  and  happy  end.' ' 
The  countess  said :  "  To  build  this  ship  methinks  would  please 

me  well, 

Such  tasks  the  sorrows  of  thy  heart  might  lighten  or  dispelj 
And,  Zara,  when  the  summer  comes,  and  winds  and  floods  are 

free, 
We'll  build  our  bark,  we'll  hoist  our  sail,  and  start  across  the 

sea." 

HAMETE  ALT 

Hamete  AH  on  his  way  toward  the  city  goes, 
His  tunic  is  a  brilliant  green  with  stripes  of  crimson  rose, 
In  sign  that  no  despondency  this  daring  wanderer  knows. 
His  arm,  that  wears  the  twisted  steel,  reflects  the  sunlight 

sheen, 

And  bound  to  it  by  many  a  knot  is  hung  his  hood  of  green. 
And  o'er  his  bonnet  azure-blue,  two  feathery  plumes  there  fly ; 
The  one  is  green  as  the  summer  and  one  is  blue  as  sky. 
He  does  not  wear  these  hues  to  show  that  he  is  passion's  slave, 
They  are  emblems  of  the  life  that  beats  within  his  bosom  brave. 
Yet  dusky  is  his  lance's  hue  and  dusky  is  his  shield, 
On  which  are  serpents  scattered  upon  a  golden  field. 
Their  venomed  tongues  are  quivering  and  ears  before  them 

stand, 
To  show  how  slanderous  hearts  can  spread  their  poison  o'er 

the  land. 

A  lettered  motto  in  the  midst  which  everyone  may  read, 
Is  written  in  Arabian  script,  ah !  good  that  all  should  heed ! 


HAMETE   ALI  57 

"  'Tis  naught  but  innocence  of  heart  can  save  me  from  the 

blow 
With  which  the  slanderous  serpents  would  lay  their  victim 

low." 

Upon  a  piebald  colt  he  rode  along  the  valley's  side, 
The  bravest  of  the  valiant  Moors  and  once  Granada's  pride. 
In  furious  rage  descending  from  bold  Ubeda's  steep, 
He  crossed  the  vale  and  mounted  to  Baza's  castle  keep. 
Defiant  still  of  Fortune's  power,  his  thoughts  at  last  found  vent, 
For  Fortune  had  been  cruel,  and  in  words  of  discontent, 
As  if  he  blamed  the  serpent  upon  his  shield  displayed, 
The  torrent  of  his  heart  broke  forth  and  in  wrath  the  warrior 

said: 

"  O  wasters  of  the  brightest  hope  I  knew  in  years  long  past ! 
O  clouds  by  which  the  blazing  sun  of  bliss  is  overcast ! 
O  blight  of  love,  O  ruin  of  aspirations  pure ! 
Vile  worms,  that  gnaw  and  waste  away  the  treasures  most 

secure ! 

Attempt  no  more  to  banish  me  from  my  own  native  land, 
That  in  my  place  of  honor  ye,  envious  slaves,  may  stand ; 
I,  too,  have  friends,  whose  swords  are  keen,  whose  love  is 

strong  and  leal. 
To  them  I  look  for  my  defence  by  stratagem  or  steel. 

And,  Fortune,  do  thy  worst ;  it  is  not  meant, 

By  Allah,  that  his  knight  should  die  in  banishment. 

"  Permit  it  not  that  in  the  generous  breasts  of  those  whose 

blood 
Flows  in  my  veins,  who  by  my  side  as  faithful  champions 

stood, 

Those  cursed  asps,  whose  effigies  my  shield's  circumference  fill. 
Could  plant  the  thoughts  of  villany  by  which  they  work  me  ilL 
Just  heaven  forbids  their  words  should  blot  the  honor  of  my 

name, 

For  pure  and  faithful  is  my  heart,  howe'er  my  foes  defame ; 
And  Zaida,  lovely  Zaida,  at  a  word  that  did  me  wrong, 
Would  close  her  ears  in  scornful  ire  and  curse  the  slanderous 

tongue. 

And,  Fortune,  do  thy  worst ;  it  is  not  meant, 

By  Allah,  that  his  knight  should  die  in  banishment. 


58  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

"  Nay,  Fortune,  turn  no  more  thy  wheel,  I  care  not  that  it  rest, 
Nor  bid  thee  draw  the  nail  that  makes  it  stand  at  man's  behest. 
Oh,  may  I  never  say  to  thee,  when  for  thy  aid  I  call, 
Let  me  attain  the  height  of  bliss  whate'er  may  be  my  fall ! 
And  when  I  roam  from  those  I  love,  may  never  cloud  arise 
To  dim  my  hope  of  a  return  and  hide  me  from  their  eyes. 
Yet  doubtless,  'tis  the  absent  are  oftenest  forgot, 
Till  those  who  loved  when  they  were  near  in  absence  love  them 
not. 

And,  Fortune,  do  thy  worst;  it  is  not  meant, 
By  Allah,  that  his  knight  should  die  in  banishment. 

"  And  since  'tis  my  unhappy  lot,  through  slander's  cruel  wiles, 
I  should  be  robbed  so  many  years  of  Zaida's  cheering  smiles, 
Yet  those  who  say  that  I  am  false,  and  name  Celinda's  name, 
Oh,  may  they  gain  no  end  at  length  but  obloquy  and  shame ! 
It  is  not  just  that  to  these  words  and  to  these  anxious  fears, 
These  wild  complaints,  the  god  of  love  should  close  his  heed- 
less ears ! 

Yes,  I  deserve  a  better  fate,  the  fate  that  makes  more  sure ; 
The  fame  of  those  whose  slanderous  tongue  in  banishment 
endure. 

And,  Fortune,  do  thy  worst ;  it  is  not  meant, 
By  Allah,  that  his  knight  should  die  in  banishment." 

He  spoke,  and,  lo !  before  him  he  saw  the  city  stand, 

With  walls  and  towers  that  frowned  in  might  upon  that  fertile 

land. 

And  he  saw  the  glittering  banners  of  Almanzor  set  on  high, 
And  swaying  in  the  gentle  breeze  that  filled  the  summer  sky. 
And  those  who  stood  upon  the  walls,  soon  as  he  came  in  sight, 
Streamed  forth  from  the  portcullis  with  welcome  for  the  knight, 
For  they  marvelled  at  the  prancing  steed  that  rushed  across 

the  plain, 
They  marvelled  at  his  thundering  voice  and  words  of  deep 

disdain. 

And,  Fortune,  do  thy  worst ;  it  is  not  meant, 

By  Allah,  that  his  knight  should  die  in  banishment. 

And  as  he  rode  into  the  town  and  galloped  to  the  square, 
Upon  the  balconies  he  saw  bright  dames  with  faces  bare ; 


ZAIDE'S    LOVE 


59 


They  stood,  they  gazed  with  eyes  of  love  and  gestures  of  de-. 

light, 

For  they  joyed  to  see  among  them  so  stout,  so  fair  a  knight. 
And  all  of  Baza's  people  with  cries  his  coming  greet, 
And  follow  at  his  horse's  tail  from  street  to  crowded  street. 
His  heart  with  gratitude  was  filled,  his  bosom  filled  with  pride, 
And  with  doffed  bonnet,  lo,  he  bowed  and  once  again  he  cried : 
"And,  Fortune,  do  thy  worst;  it  is  not  meant, 
By  Allah,  that  his  knight  should  die  in  banishment." 

They  led  him  to  the  warden's  house,  and  there  was  feasting 

high. 

Brave  men  and  beauteous  women  in  crowds  were  standing  by. 
The  trumpets  blew  in  merry  strain,  the  Moorish  horns  resound, 
And  the  strain  of  joy  was  echoed  from  every  castle  round. 
And  from  his  colt  dismounting  he  laid  his  lance  aside, 
And  greeted  all  the  multitude  that  filled  the  plaza  wide. 
Then  to  the  strong  tower  of  the  place  he  hurried  from  the 

street, 
And  as  he  went  a  thousand  times  his  lips  would  still  repeat : 

"  And,  Fortune,  do  thy  worst ;  it  is  not  meant, 

By  Allah,  that  his  knight  should  die  in  banishment." 


ZAIDE'S  LOVE 

Then  Zaide  stood  enraptured  and  gazed  with  placid  eye, 

For  the  moment  when  his  heart's  desire  should  be  fulfilled  was 

nigh. 

Propitious  was  the  moment,  and  happy  was  the  hour, 
When  all  that  he  had  longed  for  had  come  into  his  power. 
And  he  said :    "  Thrice  happy  is  the  wall,  and  happy  is  the 

bar, 

Tho'  from  my  fond  embraces,  Zaida,  it  keeps  thee  far ; 
For  long  as  thou  shalt  live  on  earth,  my  Zaida,  thou  art  mine ; 
And  the  heart  that  in  my  bosom  beats,  long  as  it  beats,  is  thine. 
And  happy  is  the  green,  green  sod  on  which  thy  feet  are  set, 
For  the  pressure  of  thy  tender  foot  the  grass  shall  ne'er  forget, 
Shall  ne'er  forget  the  white,  white  heel  that  o'er  the  pathway 

came, 


6o  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Leaving  behind  it,  everywhere,  the  print  of  snow  and  flame. 
But  far  more  happy  is  the  knight,  if  e'er  should  Allah  send 
To  this  dark  separation  a  bright  and  peaceful  end. 
For  seems  to  me  the  hours  that  pass,  without  thy  presence 

dear, 

Wear  the  dark  robe  of  sorrow,  that  orphaned  children  wear. 
I  seek  to  have  thee  with  me,  for  it  is  only  to  the  weak 
That  the  happiness  is  wanting  that  they  do  not  dare  to  seek. 
And  if  the  doom  of  death  is  ours,  it  will  not  haste  the  more 
Because  we  scorn  to  think  of  it  upon  this  happy  shore. 
But  ere  it  come,  that  doom  of  death  which  fills  us  with  alarms, 
May  Allah  grant  to  me  the  boon  of  resting  in  thine  arms ! 
And  if,  in  that  supremest  bliss,  fate  favors  my  design, 
And  love  is  crowned,  the  lot  of  life  contented  I  resign. 
O  darling  Zaida,  blest  is  he,  'mid  thousands,  who  can  say 
That  on  that  bosom,  in  those  arms  he  for  one  moment  lay ! 
Come,  darling,  to  thy  Zaide's  side,  and  yield  to  him  thy  love ; 
Thou  knowest  him  brave  and  good  and  kind,  all  other  knights 

above ; 

In  owning  him  thy  lover  true,  thou  wilt  a  partner  count 
Who  above  all  in  valor's  list  is  champion  paramount. 
Thy  beauty's  sway  should  be  unchecked  as  death's  prevailing 

might, 

But,  ah,  how  many  worlds  would  then  sink  into  endless  night ! 
But  come,  fair  Zaida,  quickly  come  to  these  expectant  arms, 
And  let  me  win  at  last  the  prize  of  victory  o'er  thy  charms. 
It  is  a  debt  thou  owest  me,  oh,  let  the  debt  be  paid." 
Then  Zaida  rose  and  showed  herself  in  beauty's  robe  arrayed, 
And  the  Moor  cried :  "  May  Allah  grant  thy  sun  may  ever 

shine, 

To  light  with  its  full  splendor  this  lonely  life  of  mine ! 
And  tho'  my  stammering  tongue  be  dumb,  and  like  a  broken 

lute, 

And  in  its  loudest  efforts  to  speak  thy  praise  be  mute, 
It  can  at  least  announce  to  thee,  loud  as  the  thunder's  peal, 
The  service  that  I  owe  to  thee,  the  passion  that  I  feel." 
The  Moorish  lady  smiled  at  this,  and  spake  in  tender  tone ; 
"  If  all  this  silent  tongue  of  thine  has  said  be  loyal  shown, 
If  all  thy  vows  be  from  thy  heart,  and  all  thy  heavy  sighs 
From  out  a  breast  unchanging,  a  constant  spirit  rise, 


ZAIDA'S   JEALOUSY  61 

I  swear  that  I  would  grant  thy  wish  and  follow  thy  behest ; 
But,  ah,  I  fear  lest  thy  fierce  love  should  bring  to  me  no  rest, 
I  fear  these  honeyed  words  that  from  thy  lips  so  lightly  fly 
At  last  should  prove  a  serpent's  fang  to  sting  me  till  I  die." 
Then  swore  to  her  the  Moor :  "  If  this  the  end  should  ever  be, 
May  the  firm  earth  beneath  my  feet  yawn  wide  and  swallow  me ! 
And  may  the  blessed  sunlight,  the  symbol  of  my  hope, 
Wither  these  orbs  and  leave  me  in  eternal  night  to  grope !  " 
At  this  the  lovers  joined  their  hands  and  hearts,  and,  with  a 

kiss, 

Sealed  all  their  vows  of  friendship  and  promises  of  bliss — 
Their  love  was  strong  and  solid  and  constant  should  remain, 
Till  death  should  end  their  bondage  and  break  the  golden 

chain. 

ZAIDA'S  JEALOUSY. 

Kind  friend  of  Bencerraje's  line,  what  judgment  dost  thou  hold 
Of  all  that  Zaida's  changeful  moods  before  thine  eyes  unfold  ? 
Now  by  my  life  I  swear  that  she  to  all  would  yield  her  will ; 
Yet  by  my  death  I  swear  that  she  to  all  is  recreant  still. 
Come  near,  my  friend,  and  listen  while  I  show  to  you  this  note, 
Which  to  the  lovely  lady  in  bitter  grief  I  wrote; 
Repeat  not  what  I  read  to  thee,  for  'twere  a  deadly  shame, 
Since  thou  her  face  admirest,  should  slander  smirch  her  name : 
"  O  Moorish  maiden,  who  like  time,  forever  on  the  wing, 
Dost  smiles  and  tears,  with  changing  charm,  to  every  bosom 

bring, 

Thy  love  is  but  a  masquerade,  and  thou  with  grudging  hand 
Scatterest  the  crumbs  of  hope  on  all  the  crowds  that  round 

thee  stand. 

With  thee  there  is  no  other  law  of  love  and  kindliness 
But  what  alone  may  give  thee  joy  and  garland  of  success. 
With  each  new  plume  thy  maidens  in  thy  dark  locks  arrange, 
With   each   new   tinted   garment   thy  thoughts,   thy   fancies 

change. 

I  own  that  thou  art  fairer  than  even  the  fairest  flower 
That  at  the  flush  of  early  dawn  bedecks  the  summer's  bower. 
But,  ah,  the  flowers  in  summer  hours  change  even  till  they 

fade, 


62  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

And  thou  art  changeful  as  the  rose  that  withers  in  the  shade. 

And  though  thou  art  the  mirror  of  beauty's  glittering  train, 

Thy  bosom  has  one  blemish,  thy  mind  one  deadly  stain ; 

For  upon  .all  alike  thou  shed'st  the  radiance  of  thy  smile, 

And  this  the  treachery  by  which  thou  dost  the  world  beguile. 

I  do  not  plead  in  my  complaint  thy  loveliness  is  marred, 

Because  thy  words  are  cruel,  because  thy  heart  is  hard ; 

Would  God  that  thou  wert  insensible  as  is  the  ocean  wild 

And  not  to  all  who  meet  thee  so  affable  and  mild ; 

Ah,  sweetest  is  the  lingering  fruit  that  latest  comes  in  time, 

Ah,  sweetest  is  the  palm-tree's  nut  that  those  who  reach  must 
climb. 

Alas !  'twas  only  yesterday  a  stranger  reached  the  town — 

Thou  offeredst  him  thy  heart  and  bade  him  keep  it  for  his  own ! 

O  Zaida,  tell  me,  how  was  this  ?  for  oft  I  heard  thee  say 

That  thou  wert  mine  and  'twas  to  me  thy  heart  was  given 
away. 

Hast  thou  more  hearts  than  one,  false  girl,  or  is  it  changeful- 
ness 

That  makes  thee  give  that  stranger  guest  the  heart  that  I 
possess  ? 

One  heart  alone  is  mine,  and  that  to  thee  did  I  resign. 

If  thou  hast  many,  is  my  love  inadequate  to  thine? 

O  Zaida,  how  I  fear  for  thee,  my  veins  with  anger  glow ; 

O  Zaida.,  turn  once  more  to  me,  and  let  the  stranger  go. 

As  soon  as  he  hath  left  thy  side  his  pledges,  thou  wilt  find, 

Were  hollow  and  his  promises  all  scattered  to  the  wind. 

And  if  thou  sayst  thou  canst  not  feel  the  pains  that  absence 
brings, 

Tis  that  thy  heart  has  never  known  love's  gentle  whisperings. 

'Tis  that  thy  fickle  mind  has  me  relinquished  here  to  pine, 

Like  some  old  slave  forgotten  in  this  palace  court  of  thine. 

Ah,  little  dost  thou  reck  of  me,  of  all  my  pleasures  flown, 

But  in  thy  pride  dost  only  think,  false  lady,  of  thine  own. 

And  is  it  weakness  bids  me  still  to  all  thy  faults  be  blind 

And  bear  thy  lovely  image  thus  stamped  upon  my  mind? 

For  when  I  love,  the  slight  offence,  though  fleeting  may  be 
the  smart, 

Is  heinous  as  the  treacherous  stroke  that  stabs  a  faithful  heart. 

And  woman  by  one  look  unkind,  one  frown,  can  bring  despair 


ZAIDA   OF   TOLEDO  63 

Upon  the  bosom  of  the  man  whose  spirit  worships  her. 
Take,  then,  this  counsel,  'tis  the  last  that  I  shall  breathe  to 

thee, 
Though  on  the  winds  I  know  these  words  of  mine  will  wasted 

be: 

I  was  the  first  on  whom  thou  didst  bestow  the  fond  caress, 
And  gave  those  pledges  of  thy  soul,  that  hour  of  happinessj 
Oh,  keep  the  faith  of  those  young  days !    Thy  honor  and  re- 
nown 
Thou  must  not  blight  by  love  unkind,  by  treachery's  heartless 

frown. 

For  naught  in  life  is  safe  and  sure  if  faith  thou  shouldst  discard, 
And  the  sunlight  of  the  fairest  soul  is  oft  the  swiftest  marred. 
I  will  not  sign  this  letter  nor  set  to  it  my  name ; 
For  I  am  not  that  happy  man  to  whom  love's  message  came, 
Who  in  thy  bower  thy  accents  sweet  enraptured  heard  that  day, 
When  on  thy  heaving  bosom,  thy  chosen  love,  I  lay. 
Yet  well  thou'lt  know  the  hand  that  wrote  this  letter  for  thine 

eye, 

For  conscience  will  remind  thee  of  thy  fickle  treachery. 
Dissemble  as  thou  wilt,  and  play  with  woman's  skill  thy  part, 
Thou  knowest  there  is  but  one  who  bears  for  thee  a  broken 

heart." 

Thus  read  the  valiant  castellan  of  Baza's  castle  tower, 
Then  sealed  the  scrip  and  sent  it  to  the  Moorish  maiden's 

bower. 

ZAIDA   OF   TOLEDO 

Upon  a  gilded  balcony,  which  decked  a  mansion  high, 
A  place  where  ladies  kept  their  watch  on  every  passer-by, 
While  Tagus  with  a  murmur  mild  his  gentle  waters  drew 
To  touch  the  mighty  buttress  with  waves  so  bright  and  blue, 
Stands  Zaida,  radiant  in  her  charms,  the  flower  of  Moorish 

maids, 
And  with  her  arching  hand  of  snow  her  anxious  eyes  she 

shades, 

Searching  the  long  and  dusty  road  that  to  Ocafia  leads, 
For  the  flash  of  knightly  armor  and  the  tramp  of  hurrying 

steeds. 


64  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

The  glow  of  amorous  hope  has  lit  her  cheek  with  rosy  red, 
Yet  wrinkles  of  too  anxious  love  her  beauteous  brow  o'er- 

spread ; 

For  she  looks  to  see  if  up  the  road  there  rides  a  warrior  tall — 
The  haughty  Bencerraje,  whom  she  loves  the  best  of  all. 
At  every  looming  figure  that  blots  the  vega  bright, 
She  starts   and  peers  with  changing  face,  and  strains  her 

eager  sight; 

For  every  burly  form  she  sees  upon  the  distant  street 
Is  to  her  the  Bencerraje  whom  her  bosom  longs  to  greet. 
And  many  a  distant  object  that  rose  upon  her  view 
Filled  her  whole  soul  with  rapture,  as  her  eager  eyes  it  drew ; 
But  when  it  nearer  came,  she  turned  away,  in  half  despair, 
Her  vision  had  deceived  her,  Bencerraje  was  not  there. 
"  My  own,  my  Bencerraje,  if  but  lately  you  descried 
That  I  was  angry  in  my  heart,  and  stubborn  in  my  pride, 
Oh,  let  my  eyes  win  pardon,  for  they  with  tears  were  wet. 
Why  wilt  thou  not  forgive  me,  why  wilt  thou  not  forget? 
And  I  repented  of  that  mood,  and  gave  myself  the  blame, 
And  thought,  perhaps  it  was  my  fault   that,  at  the  jousting 

game, 
There  was  no  face  among  the  knights  so  filled  with  care  as 

thine, 

So  sad  and  so  dejected,  yes,  I  thought  the  blame  was  mine ! 
And  yet  I  was,  if  thou  with  thought  impartial  wilt  reflect, 
Not  without  cause  incensed  with  thee,  for  all  thy  strange 

neglect. 

Neglect  that  not  from  falseness  or  words  of  mine  had  sprung 
But  from  the  slanderous  charges  made  by  a  lying  tongue ; 
And  now  I  ask  thee  pardon,  if  it  be  not  too  late, 
Oh,  take  thy  Zaida  to  thy  heart,  for  she  is  desolate ! 
For  if  thou  pardon  her,  and  make  her  thine  again,  I  swear 
Thou  never  wilt  repent,  dear  love,  thou  thus  hast  humored 

her! 

It  is  the  law  of  honor,  which  thou  wilt  never  break, 
That  the  secret  of  sweet  hours  of  love  thou  mayst  not  com- 
mon make. 

That  never  shouldst  thou  fail  in  love,  or  into  coldness  fall, 
Toward  thy  little  Moorish  maiden,  who  has  given  thee  her 

all." 


ZAIDE   REBUKED  65 

She  spoke;  and  Bencerraje,  upon  his  gallant  bay, 

Was  calling  to  her  from  the  street,  where  he  loitered  blithe 

and  gay, 

And  quickly  she  came  down  to  him,  to  give  him,  e'er  they  part, 
Her  rounded  arms,  her  ivory  neck,  her  bosom,  and  her  heart ! 


ZAIDE   REBUKED 

See,  Zaide,  let  me  tell  you  not  to  pass  along  my  street, 
Nor  gossip  with  my  maidens  nor  with  my  servants  treat; 
Nor  ask  them  whom  I'm  waiting  for,  nor  who  a  visit  pays, 
What  balls  I  seek,  what  robe  I  think  my  beauty  most  dis- 
plays. 

Tis  quite  enough  that  for  thy  sake  so  many  face  to  face 
Aver  that  I,  a  witless  Moor,  a  witless  lover  chase. 
I  know  that  thou  art  a  valiant  man,  that  thou  hast  slaughtered 

more, 

Among  thy  Christian  enemies,  than  thou  hast  drops  of  gore. 
Thou  art  a  gallant  horseman,  canst  dance  and  sing  and  play 
Better  than  can  the  best  we  meet  upon  a  summer's  day. 
Thy  brow  is  white,  thy  cheek  is  red,  thy  lineage  is  renowned, 
And  thou  amid  the  reckless  and  the  gay  art  foremost  found. 
I  know  how  great  would  be  my  loss,  in  losing  such  as  thee ; 
I  know,  if  I  e'er  won  thee,  how  great  my  gain  would  be : 
And  wert  thou  dumb  even  from  thy  birth,  and  silent  as  the 

grave, 

Each  woman  might  adore  thee,  and  call  herself  thy  slave. 
But  'twere  better  for  us  both  I  turn  away  from  thee, 
Thy  tongue  is  far  too  voluble,  thy  manners  far  too  free ; 
Go  find  some  other  heart  than  mine  that  will  thy  ways  endure, 
Some  woman  who,  thy  constancy  and  silence  to  secure, 
Can  build  within  thy  bosom  her  castle  high  and  strong, 
And  put  a  jailer  at  thy  lips,  to  lock  thy  recreant  tongue. 
Yet  hast  thou  gifts  that  ladies  love;  thy  bearing  bold  and 

bright 

Can  break  through  every  obstacle  that  bars  them  from  delight. 
And  with  such  gifts,  friend  Zaide,  thou  spreadest  thy  banquet 

board, 
And  bidst  them  eat  the  dish  so  sweet,  and  never  say  a  word ! 

5 


66  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

But  that  which  thou  hast  done  to  me,  Zaide,  shall  cost  thee 

dear; 
And  happy  would  thy  lot  have  been  hadst  thou  no  change  to 

fear. 

Happy  if  when  thy  snare  availed  to  make  the  prize  thine  own, 
Thou  hadst  secured  the  golden  cage  before  the  bird  was  flown. 
For  scarce  thy  hurrying  footsteps  from  Tarfe's  garden  came, 
Ere  thou  boastedst  of  thine  hour  of  bliss,  and  of  my  lot  of 

shame. 

They  tell  me  that  the  lock  of  hair  I  gave  thee  on  that  night, 
Thou  drewest  from  thy  bosom,  in  all  the  people's  sight, 
And  gav'st  it  to  a  base-born  Moor,  who  took  the  tresses 

curled, 

And  tied  them  in  thy  turban,  before  the  laughing  world. 
I  ask  not  that  thou  wilt  return  nor  yet  the  relic  keep, 
But  I  tell  thee,  while  thou  wearest  it,  my  shame  is  dire  and 

deep: 
They  say  that  thou  hast  challenged  him,  and  swearest  he  shall 

rue 
For  all  the  truths  he  spake  of  thee — would  God  they  were  not 

true! 

Who  but  can  laugh  to  hear  thee  blame  the  whispers  that  re- 
veal 

Thy  secret,  though  thy  secret  thyself  couldst  not  conceal. 
No  words  of  thine  can  clear  thy  guilt  nor  pardon  win  from  me, 
For  the  last  time  my  words,  my  glance,  have  been  addressed 

to  thee." 

Thus  to  the  lofty  warrior  of  Abencerraje's  race 
The  lady  spoke  in  anger,  and  turned  away  her  face: 
"  'Tis  right,"  she  said,  "  the  Moor  whose  tongue  has  proved 

to  me  unkind 
Should  in  the  sentence  of  my  tongue  fit  retribution  find." 


ZAIDA'S   INCONSTANCY  67 

ZAIDA'S  INCONSTANCY 

O  fairest  Zaida,  thou  whose  face  brings  rapture  to  mine  eyes ! 
O  fairest  Zaida,  in  whose  smile  my  soul's  existence  lies! 
Fairest  of  Moorish  maidens,  yet  in  revengeful  mood, 
Above  all  Moorish  maidens,  stained  by  black  ingratitude. 
Tis  of  thy  golden  locks  that  love  has  many  a  noose  entwined, 
And  souls  of  free  men  at  thy  sight  full  oft  are  stricken  blind ; 
Yet  tell  me,  proud  one,  tell  me,  what  pleasure  canst  thou  gain 
From  showing  to  the  world  a  heart  so  fickle  and  so  vain  ? 
And,  since  my  adoration  thou  canst  not  fail  to  know, 
How  is  it  that  thy  tender  heart  can  treat  thy  lover  so? 
And  art  thou  not  content  my  fondest  hopes  to  take  away, 
But  thou  must  all  my  hope,  my  life,  destroy,  in  utter  ruin 

lay? 

My  faithful  love,  sweet  enemy !   how  ill  dost  thou  requite ! 
And  givest  in  exchange  for  it  but  coldness  and  despite ; 
Thy  promises,  thy  pledge  of  love,  thou  to  the  gale  wouldst 

fling; 
Enough  that  they  were  thine,  false  girl,  that  they  should  all 

take  wing. 

Remember  how  upon  that  day  thou  gavest  many  a  sign 
Of  love  and  lavished'st  the  kiss  which  told  me  thou  wert 

mine. 

Remember,  lovely  Zaida,  though  memory  bring  thee  pain, 
Thy  bliss  when  'neath  thy  window  I  sang  my  amorous  strain. 
By  day,  before  the  window,  I  saw  my  darling  move, 
At  night,  upon  the  balcony,  I  told  thee  of  my  love. 
If  I  were  late  or  absence  detained  me  from  thy  sight, 
Then  jealous  rage  distraught  thy  heart,  thine  eyes  with  tears 

were  bright. 
But  now  that  thou  hast  turned  from  me,  I  come  thy  face  to 

greet, 
And  thou  biddest  me  begone,  and  pass  no  longer  through  thy 

street. 

Thou  biddest  me  look  on  thee  no  more,  nor  even  dare  to  write 
The  letter  or  the  billet-doux,  that  caused  thee  once  delight. 
Yes,  Zaida,  all  thy  favors,  thy  love,  thy  vows,  are  shown 
To  be  but  false  and  faithless,  since  thou  art  faithless  grown. 


68  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

But  why?  thou  art  a  woman,  to  fickle  falseness  born; 
Thou  prizest  those  who  scorn  thee — those  who  love  thee  thou 

dost  scorn. 
I  change   not,  thou  art  changed,  whose  heart  once  fondly 

breathed  my  name; 
But  the  more  thy  bosom  turns  to  ice,  the  fiercer  burns  my 

flame; 

For  all  thy  coldness  I  with  love  and  longing  would  repay, 
For  passion  founded  on  good  faith  can  never  die  away. 


ZAIDE'S   DESOLATION 

It  was  the  hour  when  Titan  from  Aurora's  couch  awoke, 
And  on  the  world  her  radiant  face  in  wonted  beauty  broke, 
When  a  Moor  came  by  in  sad  array,  and  Zaide  was  his  name. 
Disguised,  because  his  heart  was  sad  with  love's  consuming 

flame; 
No  shield  he  bore,  he  couched  no  lance,  he  rode  no  warrior 

steed ; 

No  plume  nor  mantle  he  assumed,  motto  or  blazon  screed ; 
Still  on  the  flank  of  his  mantle  blank  one  word  was  written 

plain, 

In  the  Moorish  of  the  people,  "  I  languish  through  disdain." 
A  flimsy  cape  his  shoulders  clad,  for,  when  the  garb  is  poor, 
Nobility  is  honored  most  because  'tis  most  obscure. 
If  he  in  poverty  appeared,  'twas  love  that  made  him  so; 
Till  love  might  give  the  wealth  he  sought  thus  mourning 

would  he  go. 
And  still  he  journeys  through  the  hills  and  shuns  the  haunts 

of  men; 

None  look  upon  his  misery  in  field  or  lonely  fen. 
Fair  Zaida  ne'er  forgets  that  he  is  prince  of  all  the  land, 
And  ruler  of  the  castles  that  at  Granada  stand ; 
But  gold  or  silver  or  brocade  can  ne'er  supply  the  lack 
Of  honor  in  a  noble  line  whose  crimes  have  stained  it  black ; 
For  sunlight  never  clears  the  sky  when  night  has  spread  her 

cloak, 

But  only  when  the  glory  of  the  morning  has  awoke. 
He  lives  secure  from  jealous  care,  holding  the  priceless  dower 


ZAIDA'S    LAMENT  69 

Which  seldom  falls  to  loving  hearts  or  sons  of  wealth  and 

power. 

Poor  is  his  garb,  yet  at  his  side  a  costly  blade  appears, 
"Pis  through  security  of  mind  no  other  arms  he  bears. 

Tis  love  that  from  Granada's  home  has  sent  him  thus  to  rove, 

And  for  the  lovely  Zaida  he  languishes  with  love — 

The  loveliest  face  that  by  God's  grace  the  sun  e'er  shone 
above. 

From  court  and  mart  he  lives  apart,  such  is  the  King's  de- 
sire; 

Yet  the  King's  friend  Alfaqui  is  the  fair  maiden's  sire. 

Friend  of  the  King,  the  throne's  support,  a  monarch's  son 
is  he, 

And  he  has  sworn  that  never  Moor  his  daughter's  spouse 
shall  be. 

He  has  no  ease  till  the  monarch  sees  his  daughter's  loveliness. 

But  she  has  clasped  brave  Zaide's  hand,  and  smiled  to  his 
caress, 

And  said  that  to  be  his  alone  is  her  sole  happiness. 

And  after  many  journeys  wide,  wearied  of  banishment, 

He  sees  the  lofty  tower  in  which  his  Moorish  maid  is  pent. 

ZAIDA'S   LAMENT 

Now  the  hoarse  trumpets  of  the  morn  were  driving   sleep 

away; 

They  sounded  as  the  fleeting  night  gave  truce  unto  the  day. 
,  The  hubbub  of  the  busy  crowd  ceased  at  that  dulcet  sound, 
,'  In  which  one  moment  high  and  low  peace  and  refreshment 

found. 

The  hoot  of  the  nocturnal  owl  alone  the  silence  broke, 
While  from  the  distance  could  be  heard  the  din  of  waking 

folk; 

And,  in  the  midst  of  silence,  came  the  sound  as  Zaida  wept, 
For  all  night  long  in  fear  of  death  she  waked  while  others 
slept. 

And  as  she  sighed,  she  sang  aloud  a  melancholy  strain ; 
"  And  who  would  wish  to  die,"  she  said,  "  though  death 
be  free  from  pain  ?  " 


70  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

For  evil  tongues,  who  thought  to  win  her  favor  with  a  lie, 
Had  told  her  that  the  bold  Gazul  ordained  that  she  should  die ; 
And  so  she  donned  a  Moor's  attire,  and  put  her  own  away, 
And  on  the  stroke  of  midnight  from  Xerez  took  her  way. 

And  as  she  sighed,  she  sang  aloud  a  melancholy  strain  ; 

"  And  who  would  wish  to  die,"  she  said,  "  though  death 
be  free  from  pain  ?  " 

She  rode  a  nimble  palfrey  and  scarce  could  great  Gazul 
Excel  the  ardent  spirit  with  which  her  heart  was  full. 
Yet  at  every  step  her  palfrey  took,  she  turned  her  head  for 

fear, 
To  see  if  following  on  her  track  some  enemy  were  near. 

And  as  she  went,  she  sang  aloud  a  melancholy  strain ; 
"  And  who  would  wish  to  die,"  she  said,  "  though  death 
be  free  from  pain  ?  " 

To  shun  suspicion's  eye,  at  last  she  left  the  king's  highway, 
And  took  the  journey  toward  Seville  that  thro'  a  bypath  lay ; 
With  loosened  rein  her  gallant  steed  right  swiftly  did  she  ride, 
Yet  to  her  fear  he  did  appear  like  a  rock  on  the  rough  way- 
side. 

And  as  she  went,  she  sang  aloud  a  melancholy  strain  ; 
"  And  who  would  wish  to  die,"  she  said,  "  though  death 
be  free  from  pain  ?  " 

So  secretly  would  she  proceed,  her  very  breath  she  held, 
Tho'  with  a  rising  storm  of  sighs  her  snowy  bosom  swelled. 
And   here  and  there    she  made  a  halt,  and  bent  her  head  to 

hear 

If  footsteps  sounded ;  then,  assured,  renewed  her  swift  career. 
And  as  she  went,  she  sang  aloud  a  melancholy  strain ; 
"  And  who  would  wish  to  die,"  she  said,  "  though  death 
be  free  from  pain  ?  " 

Her  fancy  in  the  silent  air  could  whispering  voices  hear; 

"  I'll  make  of  thee  a  sacrifice,  to  Albenzaide  dear;  " 

This  fancy  took  her  breath  away,  lifeless  she  sank  at  length, 


ZAIDE'S  CURSE  7I 

And  grasped  the  saddle-bow ;  for  fear  had  sapped  her  spirit's 
strength. 

And  as  she  went,  she  sang  aloud  a  melancholy  strain ; 
"  And  who  would  wish  to  die,"  she  said,  "  though  death 
be  free  from  pain  ?  " 

She  came  in  sight  of  proud  Seville ;  but  the  darkness  bade  her 

wait 

Till  dawn;  when  she  alighted  before  a  kinsman's  gate. 
Swift  flew  the  days,  and  when  at  last  the  joyful  truth  she 

learned, 
That  she  had  been  deceived ;  in  joy  to  Xerez  she  returned. 

And  as  she  went,  she  sang  aloud  a  melancholy  strain ; 
"  And  who  would  wish  to  die,"  she  said,  "  though  death 
be  free  from  pain  ?  " 

ZAIDA'S  CURSE 

And  Zaida  Cegri,  desolate, 
Whom  by  the  cruel  cast  of  fate, 
Within  one  hour,  the  brandished  blade 
From  wife  had  mourning  widow  made, 
On  Albenzaide's  corse  was  bowed, 
Shedding  hot  tears,  with  weeping  loud. 
Bright  as  the  gold  of  Araby 

Shone  out  her  locks  unbound ; 
And  while,  as  if  to  staunch  the  blood, 

Her  hand  lay  on  the  wound, 
She  fixed  her  glances  on  Gazul, 

Still  by  his  foes  attacked. 
"  'Twas  cruel  rage,  not  jealous  love, 

That  urged  this  wicked  act." 
(Thus  she  began  with  trembling  voice.) 

"  And  I  to  God  will  pray 
That  for  thy  treacherous  violence 

Thy  dastard  life  shall  pay. 
And  midway,  on  thy  journey  down 
To  fair  Sidonia's  castled  town, 
Mayst  thou  alone,  with  no  retreat, 
The  valiant  Garci- Perez  meet ; 
And  mayst  thou,  startled  at  the  sight, 


72  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Lose  all  the  vigor  of  thy  might ; 
Thy  reins  with  palsied  fingers  yield ; 
And  find  no  shelter  in  thy  shield. 
There  sudden  death  or  captive  shame 
Blot  all  thy  valor  but  the  name. 
Thy  warrior  garb  thou  turnest 

To  the  livery  of  the  slave ; 
Thy  coat  of  steel  is  no  cuirass, 

No  harness  of  the  brave ; 
When  to  Sidonia  thou  art  come, 

To  meet  thy  amorous  mate, 
May  foul  suspicion  turn  her  heart 

From  love  to  deadly  hate. 
Begone !  no  more  the  course  pursue 
Of  faithless  love  and  vows  untrue. 
To  remain  true  to  such  as  thee 
Were  naught  but  blackest  perjury. 
I  fear  not,  hound,  thy  sword  of  might ; 
Turn,  traitor,  turn  and  leave  my  sight, 
For  thou  wert  born  to  change  thy  mind, 
And  fling  all  fealty  to  the  wind. 
Ignoble  origin  is  thine, 
For  lovers  of  a  noble  line 
Have  no  such  rancorous  hearts  as  thine. 
And  here  I  pray  that  God  will  bring 

His  curse  upon  thy  soul, 
That  thou  in  war,  in  peace,  in  love 

May  meet  with  failure  foul, 
And  that  Sanlucar's  lady, 

Whom  thou  wishest  for  a  bride, 
Thee  from  her  castle  entrance 

May  spurn  thee  in  her  pride. 
A  widowed  wife  with  bleeding  heart, 
Hear  me  one  moment  ere  we  part ! 
Thy  knightly  service  I  distrust, 
I  hear  thy  voice  with  deep  disgust." 
Cut  to  the  heart  by  words  so  rude, 
The  Moor  within  the  palace  stood ; 
Say  what  he  could,  'twas  but  to  find 
His  vain  word  wasted  on  the  wind. 


THE   TOURNAMENT   OF    ZAIDE 


THE  TOURNAMENT  OF  ZAIDE 


73 


By  Zaide  has  a  feast  been  pledged  to  all  Granada's  dames, 
For  in  his  absence  there  had  been  dire  lack  of  festive  games, 
And,  to  fulfil  the  promise  the  noble  man  had  made, 
He  called  his  friends  to  join  him  in  dance  and  serenade. 
There  should  be  sport  of  every  kind;  the  youths  in  white 

arrayed 

Were,  to  the  ladies  all  unknown,  to  lead  the  camisade. 
And  ere  the  radiance  of  dawn  could  tint  the  valley-side, 
The- merry  Moor  had  come  abroad,  his  friends  were  at  his 

side. 

He  gathered  round  a  company,  they  formed  a  joyous  train ; 
There  were  fifty  gentlemen,  the  noblest  names  in  Spain. 
Before  the  dawn  they  sallied  forth  the  ladies  to  surprise 
And  all  that  snowy  gowns  conceal  to  see  with  open  eyes. 
They  bound  their  brows  with  garlands  of  flowerets  sweet  and 

bright, 

In  one  hand  each  a  cane-stalk  bore,  in  one  a  taper  white, 
And  the  clarions  began  to  blow,  and  trump  and  Moorish  horn, 
And  whoop  and  shout  and  loud  huzzas  adown  the  street  were 

^orne. 

From  right  to  left  the  clamor  spread  along  the  esplanade. 
And  envious  Abbaicin  a  thousand  echoes  made. 
The  startled  horses  galloped  by,  amid  the  people's  yells; 
The  town  to  its  foundation  shook  with  the  jingle  of  their  Bells. 
Amid  the  crowd  some  run,  some  shout,  "  Stop,  stop !  "  the 

elders  say; 

Then  all  take  order  and  advance  to  Alcazaba's  way ; 
Others  from  Vavataubin  to  Alpujarra  fare, 
Down  the  street  of  the  Gomelas  or  to  Vivarrambla  Square. 
Now  the  whole  town  is  on  its  feet,  from  wall  to  towering  wall 
They  surge  with  shouts  or  flock  around  the  tower  and  castle 

tall. 

The  ladies  who  are  tenderest  and  given  most  to  sleep 
Awaken  at  the  hubbub  and  from  their  windows  peep. 
And  there  are  seen  dishevelled  locks  clasped  by  the  lily  hand ; 
And  snowy  throat  and  bosom  bare,  revealed  in  public,  stand ; 
And  in  their  drowsy  disarray,  and  in  their  anxious  fear, 


74  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Each  Moorish  lady  is  surprised  with  many  a  sudden  tear; 
And  many  a  heart  was  filled  that  night  with  feverish  unrest, 
As  one  tall  maid  looked  through  the  pane  with  white  and 

heaving  breast. 

And  many  a  Moorish  girl  was  seen  by  revellers  that  night 
Or  running  in  confusion  or  halting  from  affright  ; 
But  no  one  saw  fair  Zaida,  except  by  memory's  sight ; 
And  Zaide  in  the  darkness,  with  Muza  as  his  guide, 
Hurried  about  the  city ;  what  a  crowd  was  at  their  side ! 
What  racket,  and  what  riot,  what  shout  and  prank  and  play ! 
It  would  have  had  no  end  unless  the  sun  had  brought  the  day, 
And  now  the  leading  revellers   mustered  their  ranks  once 

more; 
To  close  the  frolic  with  one  word ;  "  Go  home ;  the  game  is 

o'er." 

ZAIDE'S   COMPLAINT 

Brave  Zaide  paces  up  and  down  impatiently  the  street 
Where  his  lady  from  the  balcony  is  wont  her  knight  to  greet, 
And  he  anxiously  awaits  the  hour  when  she  her  face  will  show 
Before  the  open  lattice  and  speak  to  him  below. 
The  Moor  is  filled  with  desperate  rage,  for  he  sees  the  hour 

is  fled 

When  day  by  day  the  dazzling  ray  of  sunlight  gilds  that  head, 
And  he  stops  to  brood  in  desperate  mood,  for  her  alone  he 

yearns 
Can  aught  soothe  the  fire  of  fierce  desire  with  which  his  bosom 

burns. 

At  last  he  sees  her  moving  with  all  her  wonted  grace, 
He  sees  her  and  he  hastens  to  their  old  trysting-place ; 
For  as  the  moon  when  night  is  dark  and  clouds  of  tempest  fly 
Rises  behind  the  dim-lit  wood  and  lights  the  midnight  sky, 
Or  like  the  sun  when  tempests  with  inky  clouds  prevail, 
He  merges  for  one  moment  and  shows  his  visage  pale; 
So  Zaida  on  her  balcony  in  gleaming  beauty  stood, 
And  the  knight  for  a  moment  gazed  at  her  and  checked  his 

angry  mood. 

Zaide  beneath  the  balcony  with  trembling  heart  drew  near ; 
He  halted  and  with  upward  glance  spoke  to  his  lady  dear : 


ZAIDE'S   COMPLAINT 


75 


"  Fair  Moorish  maiden,  may  thy  life,  by  Allah  guarded  still, 
Bring  thee  the  full  fruition  of  that  that  thou  dost  will ; 
And  if  the  servants  of  thy  house,  the  pages  of  my  hall, 
Have  lied  about  thine  honor,  perdition  seize  them  all; 
For  they  come  to  me  and  murmur  low  and  whisper  in  my  ear 
That  thou  wishest  to  disown  me,  thy  faithful  cavalier; 
And  they  say  that  thou  art  pledged  to  one  a  Moor  of  wealth 

and  pride, 
Who  will  take  thee  to  his  father's  house  and  claim  thee  as  his 

bride, 

For  he  has  come  to  woo  thee  from  the  wide  lands  of  his  sire ; 
And  they  say  that  his  scimitar  is  keen  and  his  heart  a  flame  of 

fire. 

And  if,  fair  Zaida,  this  is  true,  I  kneel  before  thy  feet 
Imploring  thou  wilt  tell  me  true,  and  fling  away  deceit ; 
For  all  the  town  is  talking,  still  talking  of  our  love, 
And  the  tongues  of  slander,  to  thy  blame,  to  my  derision 

move." 

The  lady  blushed,  she  bowed  her  head,  then  to  the  Moor  re- 
plied : 
"  Dear  heart  of  mine,  of  all  my  friends  the  most  undoubted 

friend, 

The  time  has  come  our  friendship  should  have  an  early  end ; 
If  all,  indeed,  these  tidings  know,  as  you  yourself  declare, 
Pray  tell  me  who  of  all  the  town  first  laid  this  secret  bare. 
For  if  the  life  that  now  I  lead  continue,  I  shall  die. 
Tis  cheered  by  love,  but  tortured  by  hopeless  agony. 
God  only  knows  why  I  the  sport  of  cruel  fate  should  be. 
God  only  knows  the  man  who  says  that  I  am  false  to  thee. 
Thou  knowest  well  that  Zaida  has  loved  thee  long  and  true, 
Tho'  her  ancient  lineage,  Moorish  knight,  is  more  than  is  thy 

due, 

And  thou  knowest  well  the  loud  expostulations  of  my  sire. 
Thou  knowest  how  my  mother  curses  me  with  curses  dire 
Because  I  wait  for  thee  by  day,  for  thee  by  night  I  wait. 
Tho'  far  thou  comest  in  the  eve,  yet  dost  thou  tarry  late. 
They  say  to  hush  the  common  talk  'tis  time  that  I  be  wed, 
And  to  his  home  by  some  fond  Moor  in  bridal  veil  be  led. 
Ah !  many  are  the  lovely  dames,  tall  and  of  beauteous  face, 
Who  are  burning  in  Granada  to  take  my  envied  place. 


76  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

They  look  at  thee  with  loving  eyes  and  from  the  window  call ; 

And,  Zaide,  thou  deservest  well  the  brightest  of  them  all, 

For  thou  thyself  thine  amorous  eyes  have  turned  and  yet  will 

turn 

Upon  the  Moorish  maidens  who  for  thy  embraces  burn." 
Then  with  dejected  visage  the  Moor  this  answer  made, 
While  a  thousand  thoughts  of  sorrow  his  valorous  breast  in- 
vade: 

"  Ah,  little  did  I  think,"  he  said,  "  and  little  did  I  know 
That  thou,  my  lovely  Zaida,  would  ever  treat  me  so ; 
And  little  did  I  think  thou  wouldst  have  done  this  "cruel  deed 
And  by  thy  changeful  heart  would  thus  have  made  my  heart 

to  bleed. 

And  this  for  one  unworthy,  a  man  who  could  not  claim 
That  thou  should  sacrifice  to  him  thy  love,  thy  life,  thy  name. 
And  art  thou  she  who  long  ago,  when  evening  veiled  the  sky, 
Didst  say  to  me  with  tender  smile  from  the  lofty  balcony, 
'  Zaide,  I  am  thine  own,  thine  own,  thine  own  I  still  shall 

be, 
And  thou  the  darling  of  my  soul  art  life  itself  to  me  '  ?  " 


GUHALA'S   LOVE 

The  bravest  youth  that  e'er  drew  rein 
Upon  Granada's  flowery  plain, 
A  courteous  knight,  of  gentle  heart, 
Accomplished  in  the  jouster's  art ; 
Well  skilled  to  guide  the  flying  steed, 
And  noted  for  each  warlike  deed ; 
And  while  his  heart  like  steel  was  set 
When  foeman  in  the  battle  met, 
'Twas  wax  before  his  lady's  eyes 
And  melted  at  her  amorous  sighs ; 
And  he  was  like  a  diamond  bright 
Amid  the  sword-thrusts  of  the  fight, 
And  in  the  zambra's  festive  hour 
Was  gracious  as  the  summer's  flower. 
In  speech  he  showed  the  generous  mind, 
Where  wit  and  wisdom  were  combined; 


GUHALA'S   LOVE  77 

And,  while  his  words  no  envy  woke, 

He  weighed  each  sentence  that  he  spoke. 

And  yet  his  mantle  was  of  blue, 

And  tinged  with  sorrow's  violet  hue; 

For  fair  Guhala,  Moorish  maid, 

Her  spell  upon  his  heart  had  laid ; 

And  thus  his  cape  of  saffron  bare 

The  color  emblem  of  despair; 

On  turban  and  on  tassel  lie 

The  tints  that  yield  an  August  sky; 

For  anxious  love  was  in  his  mind ; 

And  anxious  love  is  ever  blind. 

With  scarce  a  word  did  he  forsake 

The  lady  pining  for  his  sake ; 

For,  when  the  festal  robe  he  wore, 

Her  soul  the  pall  of  sorrow  wore. 

And  now  he  journeyed  on  his  way 

To  Jaen,  for  the  jousting  day, 

And  to  Guhala,  left  alone, 

All  relic  of  delight  was  gone. 

Tho'  the  proud  maid  of  matchless  face 

A  thousand  hearts  would  fain  embrace, 

She  loved  but  one,  and  swiftly  ran 

And  spake  her  mind  to  Arbolan. 

"  O  Arbolan,  my  Moor,  my  own, 

Surely  thy  love  is  feeble  grown ! 

The  least  excuse  can  bid  thee  part, 

And  tear  with  pain  this  anxious  heart. 

Oh,  that  it  once  were  granted  me 

To  mount  my  steed  and  follow  thee; 

How  wouldst  thou  marvel  then  to  see 

That  courage  of  true  love  in  me, 

Whose  pulse  so  feebly  throbs  in  thee." 

Thus  to  see  Arbolan  depart 

So  fills  with  grief  Guhala's  heart. 

The  Moorish  maid,  while  on  he  sped, 

Lies  sickening  on  her  mournful  bed. 

Her  Moorish  damsels  strive  to  know 

The  secret  of  this  sudden  blow; 

They  ask  the  cause  that  lays  her  low ; 


78  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

They  seek  the  sad  disease  to  heal, 

Whose  cause  her  feigning  words  conceal. 

And  less,  indeed,  the  doubling  folds 

The  Moor  within  his  turban  holds, 

Than  are  the  wiles  Guhala's  mind 

In  search  of  secrecy  can  find. 

To  Zara  only,  whom  she  knows, 

Sole  friend  amid  a  ring  of  foes, 

The  sister  of  her  lover  leal, 

She  will  the  secret  cause  reveal. 

And  seeking  an  occasion  meet 

To  tell  with  truth  and  tongue  discreet, 

While  from  her  eyes  the  tear-drops  start, 

She  opens  thus  her  bleeding  heart : 

"  O  Zara,  Zara,  to  the  end, 

Thou  wilt  remain  my  faithful  friend. 

How  cruel  is  the  lot  I  bear, 

Thy  brother's  peril  makes  me  fear! 

'Tis  for  his  absence  that  I  mourn. 

I 'sicken,  waiting  his  return!  " 

Such  were  the  words  Guhala  said. 

The  love-lorn  and  afflicted  maid 

Nor  further  power  and  utterance  found, 

But,  fainting,  sank  upon  the  ground; 

For  strength  of  love  had  never  art 

To  fill  with  life  a  pining  heart. 


AZARCO  OF   GRANADA 

Azarco  left  his  heart  behind 

When  he  from  Seville  passed, 
And  winsome  Celindaja 

As  hostage  held  it  fast. 
The  heart  which  followed  with  the  Moor 

Was  lent  him  by  the  maid, 
And  at  their  tearful  parting, 

"  Now  guard  it  well,"  she  said. 
"  O  light  of  my  distracted  eyes, 

When  thou  hast  reached  the  fight, 


AZARCO   REBUKED 

In  coat  of  double-proof  arrayed, 

As  fits  a  gallant  knight, 
Let  loyal  love  and  constancy 

Be  thy  best  suit  of  mail, 
In  lonely  hours  of  absence, 

When  faith  is  like  to  fail. 
The  Moorish  girls  whom  thou  shalt  meet 

Are  dazzling  in  their  grace, 
Of  peerless  wit  and  generous  heart, 

And  beautiful  of  face. 
These  in  the  dance  may  lure  thy  heart 

To  think  of  me  no  more, 
But  none  will  e'er  adore  thee 

As  I,  thy  slave,  adore. 
For  to  live  lonely  without  thee 

Untouched  by  jealous  fear, 
Is  more  than  my  poor  heart  can  brook, 

Thou  art  to  me  so  dear. 
If  e'er  in  festal  halls  thou  meet 

Some  peril  to  my  peace, 
Azarco,  turn  thy  look  away, 

And  check  thine  eyes'  caprice. 
For  'tis  by  wandering  eyes  the  foes 

Of  constancy  increase. 
May  Allah  and  the  prophet 

Make  thy  pathway  safe  and  clear; 
And  may  one  thought  be  thine  abroad 

And  Celindaja's  here." 


AZARCO  REBUKED 

"  Draw  rein,  draw  rein  one  moment, 

And  calm  thy  hurrying  steed, 
Who  bounds  beneath  the  furious  spur 

That  makes  his  flank  to  bleed. 
Here  would  I,  by  my  grief  distraught, 

Upon  the  very  spot, 
Remind  thee  of  the  happy  hours 

Thou,  faithless,  hast  forgot. 


79 


8o  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

When  thou,  upon  thy  prancing  barb, 

Adown  this  street  would  pace, 
And  only  at  my  window  pause 

To  gaze  into  my  face. 
At  thought  of  all  thy  cruelty 

A  stricken  slave  I  pine; 
My  heart  is  burning  since  it  touched 

That  frozen  breast  of  thine. 
How  many  pledges  didst  thou  give, 

To  win  me  for  thine  own! 
Our  oaths  were  mutual ;  I  am  true, 

Whilst  thou  art  recreant  grown. 
My  eyes,  they  thrilled  thee  yesterday, 

To-day  thou  hast  no  fears ; 
For  love  is  not  alike  two  days 

Within  a  thousand  years. 
I  thought  thy  name  a  pledge  to  me 

Of  fondest  hope ;  no  less 
That  thou  wouldst  take  as  pledges  true 

My  kiss  and  soft  caress. 
What  were  thy  glowing  words  but  lures 

Thy  victim's  eyes  to  blind? 
Now  safe  from  treachery's  hour  I  bear 

No  rancor  in  my  mind. 
But  better  had  I  known  the  truth, 

When  I  desired  to  know, 
And  listened  to  thy  pleading  words, 

And  read  thy  written  vow. 
Nay,  give  me  no  excuses  vain, 

For  none  of  them  I  ask, 
Plead  truth  to  her  thou  cozenest  now — 

They'll  serve  thee  in  the  task. 
And  if  my  counsel  thou  wilt  take, 

Forget  these  eyes,  this  heart, 
Forget  my  grief  at  thy  neglect — 

Forget  me — and  depart." 
Thus  to  the  Moor,  Azarco, 

The  lovely  Zaida  cried, 
And  closed  her  lattice,  overwhelmed 

With  sorrow's  rising  tide. 


ADELIFA'S   FAREWELL  gi 

He  spurred  his  barb  and  rode  away, 

Scattering  the  dust  behind, 
And  cursed  the  star  that  made  his  heart 

Inconstant  as  the  wind. 


ADELIFA'S  FAREWELL 

Fair  Adelifa  tore  Tier  hair, 

Her  cheeks  were  furrowed  o'er  with  care, 

When  brave  Azarco  she  descried 

Ascending  the  tall  galley's  side. 

She  flung  the  dust  upon  her  head, 

She  wrung  her  lily  hands  and  shed 

Hot  tears,  and  cursed  the  bitter  day 

That  bore  her  heart's  delight  away. 

"  Thou,  who  my  glory's  captain  art, 

And  general  of  my  bleeding  heart, 

Guardian  of  every  thought  I  know, 

And  sharer  of  my  lot  of  woe ; 

Light  that  illumes  my  happy  face, 

The  bliss  of  my  soul's  dwelling-place; 

Why  must  thou  disappear  from  me, 

Thou  glass  wherein  myself  I  see? 

Azarco,  bid  me  understand 

What  is  it  thou  dost  command — 

Must  I  remain  and  wait  for  thee? 

Ah,  tedious  will  that  waiting  be. 

To  war  thou  farest,  but  I  fear 

Another  war  awaits  thee  here. 

Thou  thinkest  in  some  rural  nest 

Thou'lt  set  me  to  be  safe  at  rest. 

Ah,  if  my  absence  cause  thee  pain, 

My  love  attend  thee  on  yon  plain. 

Thy  valiant  arms'  unaided  might 

Shall  win  thee  victory  in  the  fight. 

My  faith,  Azarco,  is  thy  shield; 

It  will  protect  thee  in  the  field. 

Thou  shalt  return  with  victory, 

For  victory  embarks  with  thee. 

6 


82  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

But  thou  wilt  say,  Azarco  dear, 
That  women's  lightness  is  to  fear. 
As  with  armed  soldiers,  so  you  find, 
Each  woman  has  a  different  mind. 
And  none  shall  ever,  without  thee, 
Me  in  the  dance  or  revel  see ; 
Nor  to  the  concert  will  I  roam, 
But  stay  in  solitude  at  home. 
The  Moorish  girls  shall  never  say 
I  dress  in  robes  of  holiday ; 
'Twere  vain  to  make  the  body  fine 
Whose  soul  is  on  the  sea  with  thine." 
With  this  Celinda  came  in  sight, 
Bahata's  sister  tall  and  bright; 
This  to  an  end  her  farewell  brought, 
But  not  her  dark  and  anxious  thought. 


AZARCO'S  FAREWELL 

"  Now  saddle  me  the  silver  gray, 

The  steed  of  noble  race, 
And  give  to  me  the  shield  of  Fez, 

And  my  strong  corslet  lace; 
Give  me  a  double-headed  lance, 

With  points  of  temper  fine; 
And,  with  the  casque  of  stubborn  steel, 

That  purple  cap  of  mine. 
Its  plumes  unite  the  saffron's  tint 

With  heron's  crest  of  snow, 
And  one  long  spray  of  fluttering  gray. 

Then  give  it  e'er  I  go, 
And  I'll  put  on  the  hood  of  blue 

That  Celin's  daughter  fair, 
My  Adelifa,  best-beloved, 

Once  gave  to  me  to  wear. 
And  the  square  boss  of  metal  bring, 

That  circling  boughs  entwine 
With  laurels,  in  whose  leaves  of  gold 

The  clustered  emeralds  shine. 


AZARCO'S   FAREWELL  83 

Adonis,  hastening  to  the  hunt, 

His  heavenly  mistress  shuns, 
The  mountain  boars  before  him  flee, 

And,  '  Die/  the  motto  runs." 
'Twas  thus  the  Moor  Azarco  spoke, 

Just  as  the  war  begun, 
To  stout  Almoralife 

Of  Baza,  Zelma's  son. 
Almoralife,  brave  and  wise, 

Full  many  a  minstrel  sings, 
A  knight  who  in  Granada 

Was  counted  with  its  kings. 
And  when  they  bring  the  boss  of  gold 

He  heaves  a  thousand  sighs 
O'er  brave  Adonis  and  his  doom, 

Who  by  the  wild  boar  dies. 
"  O  Adelifa,  soul  of  mine, 

Rejoice,  and  murmur  not, 
Up  to  the  end  be  merry, 

When  worms  shall  be  thy  lot. 
My  day  of  life  must  needs  be  short, 

Thy  firmness  must  be  long; 
Although  thou  art  a  woman, 

Unlike  thy  sex,  be  strong. 
Be  not  like  Venus,  tho'  in  form 

Thou  art  indeed  her  peer, 
For  she  forgot  in  absence, 

And  did  to  death  her  dear. 
And  when  alone,  upon  my  face 

And  likeness  fix  thine  eyes, 
And  none  admit  to  do  me  wrong, 

And  thy  soft  heart  surprise. 
'Twixt  sadness  and  repining 

Love  runs  his  changing  way, 
The  gay  he  oft  makes  sorrowful, 

The  sorrowful  makes  gay. 
Then,  mark,  love,  in  my  portrait  mark, 

The  wide  eyes'  mute  appeal, 
For  this  enchanted  painting 

Can  speak  and  breathe  and  feel. 


84  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Think  how  those  eyes  shed  many  a  tear, 

When  for  thy  face  they  yearn; 
And  let  those  tears  thy  patience  win 

To  tarry  my  return." 
At  this  Galvano  came  to  say 

That  ship  and  favoring  gale 
Awaited  him,  and  all  his  host 

Were  eager  to  set  sail. 
The  Moor  went  forth  to  victory, 

He  was  not  pleasure's  slave; 
His  gallant  heart  was  ever  prompt 

To  keep  the  pledge  he  gave. 


CELINDA'S  COURTESY 

Azarco  on  his  balcony 

With  humble  Cegri  stood. 
He  talked,  and  Cegri  listened 

In  a  sad  and  listless  mood; 
For  of  his  own  exploits  he  read, 

Writ  in  an  open  scroll, 
But  envious  Cegri  heard  the  tale 

With  rage  and  bitter  dole. 
And  thro'  Elvira's  gate,  where  spreads 

A  prospect  wide  and  free, 
He  marked  how  Phoebus  shot  his  rays 

Upon  the  Spanish  sea; 
And  bending  to  the  land  his  eye 

To  notice  how  the  scene 
Of  summer  had  its  color  changed 

To  black  from  radiant  green, 
He  saw  that,  thro'  the  gate  there  passed 

A  light  that  was  not  day's, 
Whose  splendor,  like  a  dazzling  cloud, 

Eclipsed  the  solar  rays. 
That  presence  changed  the  tint  of  earth, 

Drew  off  the  dusky  veil, 
And  turned  to  living  verdure 

The  leafage  of  the  dale. 


CELINDA'S   COURTESY  85 

"  Till  now,"  Azarco  said,  "  the  scene 

Has  filled  my  heart  with  pain; 
Tis  freshened  by  Celinda's  face, 

Or  passion  turns  my  brain. 
Ah,  well  may  men  her  beauty  praise, 

For  its  transcendent  might 
Elates  the  human  spirit, 

And  fills  it  with  delight." 
And  as  he  saw  her  coming  in, 

The  Moor  his  bonnet  doffed, 
And  bowed  to  do  her  honor, 

And  spoke  in  accents  soft. 
Celinda  court'sied  to  the  ground, 

Such  favor  was  not  slight, 
Her  kindly  greeting  gratified 

The  fond  hopes  of  the  knight. 
And  glad  and  gloomy,  each  in  turn, 

For  such  a  quick  success, 
He  checked  a  thousand  words  of  love, 

That  might  his  joy  express. 
And  following  her  with  eager  eyes — 

"  I  owe  thee  much,"  said  he, 
"  Who  dost  reward  with  such  a  boon 

My  merest  courtesy. 
That  favor,  tho'  unmerited, 

Sweet  lady,  shall  remain 
Counted  among  those  choicest  gifts 

Our  reckoning  cannot  gain. 
Its  memory  shall  suffice  to  chase 

The  grinding  pangs  of  care ; 
And  softening  turn  the  ills  of  life 

To  glory's  guerdon  rare." 
On  this  Celinda  took  her  leave, 

And  vanished  from  his  view, 
And,  thinking  proudly  of  her  smile, 

Azarco  straight  withdrew. 


86  MOORISH    LITERATURE 


GAZUL'S    DESPONDENCY 

Scarce  half  a  league  from  Gelva  the  knight  dismounted  stood, 
Leaning  upon  his  upright  spear,  and  bitter  was  his  mood. 
He  thought  upon  Celinda's  curse,  and  Zaida's  fickle  mind, 
"  Ah,  Fortune,  thou  to  me,"  he  cried,  "  hast  ever  proved  un- 
kind." 

And  from  his  valiant  bosom  burst  a  storm  of  angry  sighs, 
And  acts  and  words  of  anguish  before  his  memory  rise. 
"  Celinda's  loss  I  count  as  naught,  nor  fear  her  wicked  will ; 
I  were  a  fool,  thus  cursed  by  her,  to  love  the  lady  still." 
In  rage  from  out  the  sod  he  drew  his  spear-head,  as  he  spoke, 
And  in  three  pieces  shivered  it  against  a  knotted  oak. 
He  tore  away  the  housings  that  'neath  his  saddle  hang, 
He  rent  his  lady's  favor  as  with  a  lion's  fang — 
The  silken  ribbon,  bright  with  gold,  which  in  his  crest  he  bore, 
By  loved  Celinda  knotted  there,  now  loved  by  him  no  more. 
He  drew,  as  rage  to  madness  turned,  her  portrait  from  his 

breast ; 

He  spat  on  it,  and  to  that  face  derisive  jeers  addressed. 
"  Why  should  I  dress  in  robes  of  joy,  whose  heart  is  wounded 

sore, 

By  curses,  that  requite  so  ill  the  duteous  love  I  bore? 
Stripped  as  I  am  of  every  hope,  'tis  better  I  go  bare, 
For  the  black  mantle  of  my  soul  is  but  tormenting  care ; 
I  vengeance  take  on  yonder  oak,  pierced  by  my  lance's  steel — 
I  dote,  for,  ah !  the  trees  I  wound,  cannot,  like  women,  feel." 
He  took  the  bridle  off  his  steed,  "  Roam  as  thou  wilt,"  said  he. 
"  As  I  gave  Zaida  her  release,  I  give  release  to  thee." 
The  swift  horse  galloped  out  of  sight ;  in  melancholy  mood, 
The  knight,  unhorsed  and  helmetless,  his  lonely  path  pursued. 


GAZUL   IN   LOVE 

Not  greater  share  did  Mars  acquire  of  trophies  and  renown, 
Than  great  Gazul  took  with  him  from  Gelva's  castled  town ; 
And  when  he  to  Sanlucar  came  his  lady  welcomed  him, 
His  cup  of  happiness  at  last  was  beaded  to  the  brim. 


CELINDA'S   INCONSTANCY  87 

Alone  the  joyful  lovers  stood  within  a  garden  glade ; 
Amid  the  flowers,  those  happy  hours  fled  to  the  evening  sha.de. 
With  fingers  deft  Celinda  wove  a  wreath,  in  which  were  set 
The  rose's  rudy  petals  and  the  scented  mignonette. 
She  plaited  him  a  baldric,  with  violets  circled  round, 
For  violets  are  for  lovers,  and  with  this  his  waist  she  bound. 
And  then  the  flowery  garland  she  tied  upon  his  head, 
"  Thy  face  is  delicate  and  fair  as  Ganymede's,"  she  said ; 
"  And  if  great  Jove  beheld  thee  now,  he'd  send  his  eagle  down, 
To  take  thee  to  the  palace  halls  that  high  Olympus  crown." 
The  brave  Gazul  his  lady  took  and  kissed  her  with  a  smile ; 
"  She  could  not  be  so  fair,"  said  he,  "  the  girl,  who  by  her  guile 
Brought  ruin  on  the  Trojan  realm,  and  set  its  towers  afire, 
As  thou  art,  lady  of  my  heart  and  queen  of  my  desire." 
"  If  I,  indeed,  seem  fair  to  thee,  then  let  the  bridal  rite 
Me  and  the  husband  of  my  heart  for  evermore  unite." 
"  Ah,  mine  will  be  the  gain,"  he  said,  and  kissed  her  with  de- 
light. 


CELINDA'S  INCONSTANCY 

Gazul,  like  some  brave  bull  that  stands  at  bay  to  meet  his  fate, 
Has  fled  from  fair  Celinda's  frown  and  reached  Sanlucar's  gate. 
The  Moor  bestrides  a  sorrel  mare,  her  housings  are  of  gray, 
The  desperate  Moor  is  clad  in  weeds  that  shall  his  grief  dis- 
play. 

The  white  and  green  that  once  he  wore  to  sable  folds  give  room, 
Love's  purple  tints  are  now  replaced  by  those  of  grief  and 

gloom. 
His  Moorish  cloak  is  white  and  blue,  the  blue  was  strewn  with 

stars, 

But  now  a  covering  like  a  cloud  the  starry  radiance  mars. 
And  from  his  head  with  stripes  of  black  his  silken  streamers 

flow, 

His  bonnet  blue  he  dyes  anew  in  tints  of  grief  and  woe. 
Alone  are  seen  the  tints  of  green  upon  his  sword-belt  spread, 
For  by  that  blade  the  blood  of  foes  in  vengeance  shall  be  shed. 
The  color  of  the  mantle  which  on  his  arm  he  bore 
Is  like  the  dark  arena's  dust  when  it  is  drenched  in  gore. 


88  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Black  as  the  buskins  that  he  wears,  and  black  his  stirrup's  steel, 
And  red  with  rust  of  many  a  year  the  rowels  at  his  heel. 
He  bears  not  lance  or  headed  spear,  for  that  which  once  he  bore 
Was  shivered  into  splinters  beside  Celinda's  door. 
He  bears  a  rounded  target,  whose  quarterings  display 
The  full  moon  darting  through  the  clouds  her  ineffectual  ray. 
For  though  her  orb  be  full  the  clouds  eclipse  her  silver  light ; 
The  motto :  "  Fair  but  cruel,  black-hearted  though  so  bright." 
And  as  Celinda  stripped  the  wings  which  on  adventure  brave 
Sustained  his  flight — no  more  shall  plume  above  his  helmet 

wave. 
'Twas  noon  one  Wednesday  when  Gazul  to  Gelva's  portal 

came, 
And  straight  he  sought  the  market-place  to  join  the  jousting 

game; 

The  ruler  of  the  city  looked  at  him  with  surprise, 
And  never  lady  knew  the  knight,  so  dark  was  his  disguise. 
As  they  had  been  as  soft  as  wax,  he  pierced  the  targets  through 
With  javelins  of  the  hollow  cane  that  in  the  vega  grew ; 
Not  one  could  stand  before  the  Moor;  the  tilters  turned  and 

fled, 

For  by  his  exploits  was  revealed  the  warrior's  name  of  dread. 
The  lists  were  in  confusion,  but  calm  was  on  his  brow, 
As,  lifting  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  he  breathed  a  desperate  vow  j 
"  Would  God  the  malediction  of  Celinda  had  come  true ! 
And  the  spears  of  my  assailant  had  pierced  my  bosom  through ! 
And  that  the  dames  who  pitied  me  had  cursed  me  where  I 

stand ! 

And  bravely  falling  I  became  a  hero  of  the  land ! 
That  never  succor  came  to  me,  for  that  were  rapture  high 
To  her  the  angry  lioness  who  prays  that  I  may  die !  " 
He  spoke,  he  spurred  his  courser  fleet,  and  started  for  the 

plain, 
And  swore  within  Celinda's  sight  he'd  ne'er  return  again. 


THE   BULL-FIGHT  89 


THE  BULL-FIGHT 

The  zambra  was  but  ended,  and  now  Granada's  King 
Abdeli  called  his  court  to  sit  on  Vivarrambla's  ring ; 
Of  noble  line  the  bride  and  groom  whose  nuptials  bade  pre- 
pare, 
The  struggle  between  valiant  knights  and  bulls  within  the 

square. 

And,  when  on  the  arena  the  mighty  bull  was  freed, 
Straight  to  the  deadly  conflict  one  warrior  spurred  his  steed ; 
His  mantle  was  of  emerald  of  texture  damascene, 
And  hope  was  in  his  folded  hood  as  in  his  mantle  green ; 
Six  squires  went  with  him  to  the  ring  beside  their  lord  to  stand ; 
Their  livery  was  brilliant  green,  so  did  their  lord  command. 
Hope  was  the  augury  of  his  love ;  hope's  livery  he  wore ; 
Yet  at  his  side  each  squire  of  his  a  trenchant  rapier  bore. 
Each  rapier  true  was  black  in  hue  and  sheathed  in  silver  ore ; 
At  once  the  people  knew  the  knight  from  his  audacious  mien — 
Gazul  the  brave  was  recognized  as  soon  as  he  was  seen ! 
With  graceful  dignity  he  took  his  station  on  the  sand, 
And  like  a  second  Mars  he  seized  his  rapier  in  his  hand ; 
With  courage  strong  he  eyed  the  bull,  who  pawed  the  ground 

till  high 

The  dust  of  the  arena  was  mingled  with  the  sky. 
All  at  the  sight  were  terrified,  and  now  with  deadly  speed, 
His  horns  as  keen  as  points  of  steel,  he  rushes  at  the  steed. 
The  brave  Gazul  was  on  the  watch,  to  ward  the  threatened 

blow, 

And  save  his  steed,  and  with  one  stroke  to  lay  the  assailant  low. 
The  valiant  bull,  with  lowered  head  advancing  to  the  strife, 
Felt  from  skilled  hand  the  tempered  brand  pierce  to  his  very 

life. 

Deep  wounded  to  the  gory  ground,  where  he  had  stoutly  stood, 
The  horned  warrior  sank  at  last,  bathed  in  his  own  heart's 

blood. 

Still,  on  his  ruddy  couch  he  lay,  his  courage  quenched  at  last. 
At  this  exploit  the  plaudits  of  the  assembly  filled  the  blast ; 
They  hailed  the  knight  whose  bravery  and  skill  had  done  the 

deed, 


9o  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

And  slain  the  hero  of  the  ring,  and  saved  his  goodly  steed, 
And  done  such  pleasure  to  the  King,  and  to  Celinda  fair, 
To  the  Queen  of  Spain  and  all  her  train  who  sat  assembled 
there. 

LOVERS   RECONCILED 

Soon  as  in  rage  Celinda  had  closed  her  lattice  fast 
And  scorned  the  Moor  ungrateful  for  his  service  in  the  past, 
Her  passion  with  reflection  turns  and  in  repentance  ends; 
She  longs  to  see  the  Moor  again  and  make  to  him  amends ; 
For  in  the  dance  of  woman's  love  through  every  mood  they 

range 

And  those  whose  hearts  are  truest  are  given  most  to  change. 
And  when  she  saw  the  gallant  knight  before  the  people  all 
Shiver  his  lance  to  splinters  against  her  palace  wall, 
And  when  she  saw  his  cloak  of  green  was  changed  to  mourn- 
ing gray, 

She  straightway  took  her  mantle  with  silver  buttons  gay, 
She  took  her  hood  of  purple  pleached  with  the  gold  brocade, 
Whose  fringes  and  whose  borders  were  all  in  pearls  arrayed, 
She  brought  a  cap  with  sapphires  and  emeralds  bespread ; 
The  green  was  badge  of  hope,  the  blue  of  jealous  rancor  dead. 
With  waving  plumes  of  green  and  white  she  decked  a  snowy 

hood, 

And  armed  with  double  heads  of  steel  a  lance  of  orange- 
wood — 

For  colors  of  the  outer  man  denote  the  inner  mood. 
A  border  too  of  brilliant  green  around  a  target  set, 
The  motto  this,  "  Tis  folly  a  true  lover  to  forget." 
And  first  she  learned  where  bold  Gazul  was  entertained  that 

day, 

And  they  told  her  how  his  coming  had  put  off  the  tilters'  play, 
And  at  her  pleasure-house  she  bade  him  meet  her  face  to  face ; 
And  they  told  him  how  Celinda  longed  for  his  loved  embrace, 
And  thrice  he  asked  the  messenger  if  all  were  not  a  jest, 
For  oft  'tis  dangerous  to  believe  the  news  we  love  the  best, 
For  lovers'  hopes  are  often  thorns  of  rancor  and  unrest. 
They  told  him  that  the  words  were  true ;  and  without  further 
speech 


LOVERS   RECONCILED  9! 

The  glory  of  his  lady's  eyes  he  sallied  forth  to  reach. 

He  met  her  in  a  garden  where  sweet  marjoram  combined 

With  azure  violets  a  scent  that  ravished  every  wind. 

The  musk  and  jasmine  mingled  in  leaf  and  branch  and  flower, 

Building  about  the  lovers  a  cool  and  scented  bower. 

The  white  leaf  matched  her  lily  skin,  the  red  his  bounding 

heart. 

For  she  was  beauty's  spotless  queen,  he  valor's  counterpart. 
For  when  the  Moor  approached  her  he  scarcely  raised  his  eye, 
Dazed  by  the  expectation  that  she  had  raised  so  high. 
Celinda  with  a  trembling  blush  came  forth  and  grasped  his 

hand; 

They  talked  of  love  like  travellers  lost  in  a  foreign  land. 
Then  said  the  Moor,  "  Why  give  me  now  love's  sweetest  paths 

to  trace, 

Who  in  thy  absence  only  live  on  memories  of  thy  face? 
If  thou  should  speak  of  Xerez,"  he  said  with  kindling  eye, 
"  Now  take  my  lance,  like  Zaida's  spouse  this  moment  let  me 

die, 

And  may  I  some  day  find  thee  in  a  rival's  arms  at  rest, 
And  he  by  all  thy  arts  of  love  be  tenderly  caressed; 
Unless  the  Moor  whose  slander  made  me  odious  in  thy  eyes 
In  caitiff  fraud  and  treachery  abuse  thine  ear  with  lies." 
The  lady  smiled,  her  heart  was  light,  she  felt  a  rapture  new ; 
And  like  each  flower  that  filled  their  bower  the  love  between 

them  grew, 

For  little  takes  it  to  revive  the  love  that  is  but  true ; 
And  aided  by  his  lady's  hand  he  hastes  her  gems  to  don, 
And  on  his  courser's  back  he  flings  a  rich  caparison, 
A  head-stall  framed  of  purple  web  and  studded  o'er  with  gold ; 
And  purple  plumes  and  ribbons  and  gems  of  price  untold ; 
He  clasped  the  lady  to  his  heart,  he  whispered  words  of  cheer, 
And  then  took  horse  to  Gelva  to  join  the  tilting  there. 


92  MOORISH    LITERATURE 


CALL  TO  ARMS 

What  time  the  sun  in  ocean  sank,  with  myriad  colors  fair, 
And  jewels  of  a  thousand  hues  tinted  the  clouds  of  air, 
Brave  Gazul  at  Acala,  with  all  his  host,  drew  rein — 
They  were  four  hundred  noblemen,  the  stoutest  hearts  in 

Spain — 
And  scarcely  had  he  reached  the  town  when  the  command  was 

given: 
"  Now  let  your  shots,  your  cross-bows,  sound  to  the  vault  of 

heaven ! 

Let  kettle-drums  and  trumpets  and  clarions  blend  their  strain ; 
Zulema,  Tunis'  King,  now  lands  upon  the  coast  of  Spain, 
And  with  him  ride,  in  arms  allied,  Marbello  and  his  train." 

And  though  at  night  he  entered  no  torch  or  lamp  he  hath, 

For  glorious  Celinda  is  the  sun  upon  his  path ; 

And  as  he  enters  in  the  town  at  once  the  word  is  given : 

"  Now  let  your  shots,  your  cross-bows,  sound  to  the  vault  of 

heaven ! 
Let    kettle-drums    and    trumpets    and    clarions    blend    their 

strain ; 

Zulema,  Tunis'  King,  now  lands  upon  the  coast  of  Spain, 
And  with  him  ride,  in  arms  allied,  Marbello  and  his  train." 

Gazul  dismounted  from  his  steed  and  hastened  to  his  bride ; 
She  sat  there  mournful  and  alone  and  at  his  sight  she  sighed ; 
He  flung  his  arms  about  the  girl ;  she  shrank  from  his  embrace, 
And  while  he  looked  in  wonder,  she  hid  her  blushing  face ; 
He  said,  "  And  can  it  be  that  thou  should'st  shrink  from  my 

embrace  ?  " 

Before  she  answered  with  one  voice  the  air  around  was  riven — 
"  Now  let  your  shots,  your  cross-bows,  sound  to  the  vault  of 

heaven ! 
Let    kettle-drums    and    trumpets    and    clarions    blend    their 

strain ; 

Zulema,  Tunis'  King,  now  lands  upon  the  coast  of  Spain, 
And  with  him  ride,  in  arms  allied,  Marbello  and  his  train." 


GAZUL   CALUMNIATED 


93 


"  Ah,  traitor,"  she  replied  to  him,  "  four  months  wert  thou 

away, 

And  I  in  vain  expected  some  tidings  day  by  day." 
And  humbly  did  the  Moor  reply,  "  Do  I  deserve  the  blame  ? 
Who  drops  the  lance  to  take  the  pen,  he  does  a  deed  of  shame." 
They  sank  into  each  other's  arms  just  as  the  word  was  given : 
"  Now  let  your  shots,  your  cross-bows,  sound  to  the  vault  of 

heaven ! 
Let    kettle-drums    and    trumpets    and    clarions    blend    their 

strain ; 

Zulema,  Tunis'  King,  now  lands  upon  the  coast  of  Spain, 
And  with  him  ride,  in  arms  allied,  Marbello  and  his  train." 


GAZUL  CALUMNIATED 

Gazul,  despairing,  issues 

From  high  Villalba's  gate, 
Cursing  the  evil  fortune 

That  left  him  desolate. 
Unmoved  he  in  Granada  saw 

What  feuds  between  the  foes 
The  great  Abencerrajes 

And  the  Andallas  rose. 
He  envied  not  the  Moors  who  stood 

In  favor  with  the  King! 
He  did  not  crave  the  honors 

That  rank  and  office  bring. 
He  only  cared  that  Zaida, 

Her  soft  heart  led  astray 
By  lying  words  of  slander, 

Had  flung  his  love  away. 
And  thinking  on  her  beauteous  face, 

Her  bearing  proud  and  high, 
The  bosom  of  the  valiant  Moor 

Heaved  with  a  mournful  sigh. 
"  And  who  has  brought  me  this  disdain, 

And  who  my  hope  betrayed, 
And  thee,  the  beauteous  Zaida, 

False  to  thy  purpose  made? 


94  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

And  who  has  caused  my  spoils  of  war, 

The  palm  and  laurel  leaf, 
To  wither  on  my  forehead,  bowed 

Beneath  the  load  of  grief? 
'Tis  that  some  hearts  of  treachery  black 

With  lies  have  crossed  thy  way, 
And  changed  thee  to  a  lioness, 

By  hunters  brought  to  bay. 
O  tongues  of  malediction! 

O  slanderers  of  my  fame! 
Thieves  of  my  knightly  honor ! 

Ye  lay  up  naught  but  shame. 
Ye  are  but  citadels  of  fraud, 

And  castles  of  deceit; 
When  ye  your  sentence  pass,  ye  tread 

The  law  beneath  your  feet. 
May  Allah  on  your  cruel  plots 

Send  down  the  wrath  divine, 
That  ye  my  sufferings  may  feel, 

In  the  same  plight  as  mine. 
And  may  ye  learn,  ye  pitiless, 

How  heavy  is  the  rod 
That  brings  on  human  cruelty 

The  chastisement  of  God. 
Ye  who  profess  in  word  and  deed 

The  path  of  truth  to  hold 
Are  viler  than  the  nightly  wolves 

That  waste  the  quiet  fold." 
So  forth  he  rode,  that  Moorish  knight, 

Consumed  by  passion's  flame, 
Scorned  and  repulsed  by  Zaida, 

The  lovely  Moorish  dame. 
Then  spake  he  to  the  dancing  waves 

Of  Tagus'  holy  tide, 
"  Oh,  that  thou  hadst  a  tongue,  to  speak 

My  story  far  and  wide ! 
That  all  might  learn,  who  gaze  on  thee 

At  evening,  night,  or  morn, 
Westward  to  happy  Portugal, 

The  sufferings  I  have  borne." 


GAZUL'S   DESPAIR  95 

GAZUL'S   DESPAIR 

Upon  Sanlucar's  spacious  square 

The  brave  Gazul  was  seen, 
Bedecked  in  brilliant  array 

Of  purple,  white,  and  green. 
The  Moor  was  starting  ,for  the  joust, 

Which  many  a  warrior  brings 
To  Gelva,  there  to  celebrate 

The  truce  between  the  kings. 
A  fair  Moor  maiden  he  adored, 

A  daughter  of  the  brave, 
Who  struggled  at  Granada's  siege; 

Granada  was  their  grave. 
And  eager  to  accost  the  maid, 

He  wandered  round  the  square; 
With  piercing  eyes  he  peered  upon 

The  walls  that  held  the  fair. 
And  for  an  hour,  which  seemed  like  years, 

He  watched  impatient  there; 
But  when  he  saw  the  lady  mount 

Her  balcony,  he  thought, 
That  the  long  hour  of  waiting 

That  vision  rendered  short. 
Dismounting  from  his  patient  steed, 

In  presence  of  his  flame, 
He  fell  upon  his  knees  and  kissed 

The  pavement  in  her  name. 
With  trembling  voice  he  spoke  to  her, 

"  I  cannot,  cannot  meet, 
In  any  joust  where  you  are  near, 

Disaster  and  defeat. 
Of  yore  I  lived  without  a  heart, 

Kinsmen,  or  pedigree ; 
But  all  of  these  are  mine,  if  thou 

Hast  any  thought  of  me. 
Give  me  some  badge,  if  not  that  thou 

Mayst  recognize  thy  knight, 
At  least  to  deck  him,  give  him  strength, 


96  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

And  succor  in  the  fight." 
Celinda  heard  in  jealous  doubt; 

For  some,  with  envious  art, 
Had  told  her  that  fair  Zaida  still 

Ruled  o'er  the  warrior's  heart. 
She  answered  him  in  stormy  rage: 
"  If  in  the  joust  thou  dost  engage 
With  such  success  as  I  desire, 
And  all  thy  broken  oaths  require, 
Thou  wilt  not  reach  Sanlucar's  square 
So  proud  as  when  thou  last  wert  there. 
But  there  shalt  meet,  disconsolate, 
Eyes  bright  with  love  and  dark  with  hate. 
God  grant  that  in  the  deadly  joust 
The  enemies  that  thou  hast  roused, 
May  hurl  at  thee  the  unparried  dart 
And  pierce  thee,  liar,  to  the  heart. 
Thy  corpse  within  thy  mantle  bound 
May  horses  trail  along  the  ground. 
Thou  comest  thy  revenge  to  seek, 
But  small  the  vengeance  thou  shalt  wreak. 
Thy  friends  shall  no  assistance  yield; 
Thy  foes  shall  tread  thee  in  the  field ; 
For  thou  the  woman-slayer,  then, 
Shall  meet  thy  final  fate  from  men. 
Those  damsels  whom  thou  hast  deceived 

Shall  feel  no  pang  of  grief; 
Their  aid  was  malediction, 

Thy  death  is  their  relief. 
The  Moor  was  true  in  heart  and  soul, 

He  thought  she  spake  in  jest. 
He  stood  up  in  his  stirrups, 

Her  hand  he  would  have  pressed. 
"  Lady,"  he  said,  "  remember  well 
That  Moor  of  purpose  fierce  and  fell 
On  whom  my  vengeance  I  did  wreak 
Hast  felt  the  curse  that  now  you  speak. 
And  as  for  Zaida,  I  repent 
That  love  of  mine  on  her  was  spent. 
Disdain  of  her  and  love  of  thee 


VENGEANCE   OF   GAZUL 

Now  rule  my  soul  in  company. 
The  flame  in  which  for  her  I  burned 
To  frost  her  cruelty  has  turned. 
Three  cursed  years,  to  win  her  smile, 

In  knightly  deeds  I  wrought, 
And  nothing  but  her  treachery 

My  faithful  service  brought, 
She  flung  me  off  without  a  qualm, 

Because  my  lot  was  poor, 
And  gave,  because  the  wretch  was  rich, 

Her  favor  to  a  Moor." 
Celinda  as  these  words  she  heard 
Impatiently  the  lattice  barred, 
And  to  the  lover's  ardent  sight 
It  seemed  that  heaven  was  quenched  in  night. 
A  page  came  riding  up  the  street, 
Bringing  the  knight  his  jennets  fleet, 
With  plumes  and  harness  all  bedight 
And  saddled  well  with  housings  bright; 
The  lance  which  he  on  entering  bore 
Brandished  the  knight  with  spirit  sore, 

And  dashed  it  to  the  wall, 
And  head  and  butt,  at  that  proud  door, 

In  myriad  fragments  fall. 
He  bade  them  change  from  green  to  gray 

The  plumes  and  harness  borne  that  day 
By  all  the  coursers  of  his  train. 

In  rage  disconsolate, 
He  rode  from  Gelva,  nor  drew  rein 

Up  to  Sanlucar's  gate. 

VENGEANCE  OF  GAZUL 

Not  Rodamont  the  African, 

The  ruler  of  Argel, 
And  King  of  Zarza's  southern  coast, 

Was  filled  with  rage  so  fell, 
When  for  his  darling  Doralice 

He  fought  with  Mandricard, 
7 


97 


98  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

As  filled  the  heart  of  bold  Gazul 

When,  past  Sidonia's  guard, 
He  sallied  forth  in  arms  arrayed, 

With  courage  high  prepared 
To  do  a  deed  that  mortal  man 

Never  before  had  dared. 
It  was  for  this  he  bade  them  bring 

His  barb  and  coat  of  mail; 
A  sword  and  dusky  scabbard 

'Neath  his  left  shoulder  trail ; 
In  Fez  a  Christian  captive 

Had  forged  it,  laboring 
At  arms  of  subtile  temper 

As  bondsman  of  the  King. 
More  precious  'twas  to  bold  Gazul 

Than  all  his  realms  could  bring. 
A  tawny  tinted  alquizel 

Beneath  his  arms  he  wore; 
And,  to  conceal  his  thoughts  of  blood, 

No  towering  spear  he  bore. 
He  started  forth  for  Jerez, 

And  hastening  on  his  course, 
Trampled  the  vega  far  and  wide 

With  hoof-prints  of  his  horse. 
And  soon  he  crossed  the  splashing  ford 

Of  Guadelate's  tide, 
Hard  by  the  ancient  haven 

Upon  the  valley-side. 
They  gave  the  ford  a  famous  name 

The  waters  still  retain, 
Santa  Maria  was  it  called, 

Since  Christians  conquered  Spain. 
The  river  crossed,  he  spurred  his  steed, 

Lest  he  might  reach  the  gate 
Of  Jarez  at  an  hour  unfit, 

Too  early  or  too  late. 
For  Zaida,  his  own  Zaida, 

Had  scorned  her  lover  leal, 
Wedding  a  rich  and  potent  Moor 

A  native  of  Seville ; 


VENGEANCE  OF   GAZUL  99 

The  nephew  of  a  castellan, 

A  Moorish  prince  of  power, 
Who  in  Seville  was  seneschal 

Of  castle  and  of  tower. 
By  this  accursed  bridal 

Life's  treasure  he  had  lost; 
The  Moor  had  gained  the  treasure, 

And  now  must  pay  the  cost. 
The  second  hour  of  night  had  rung 

When,  on  his  gallant  steed, 
He  passed  thro'  Jerez'  gate  resolved 

Upon  a  desperate  deed. 
And  lo!  to  Zaida's  dwelling 

With  peaceful  mien  he  came, 
Pondering  his  bloody  vengeance 

Upon  that  house  of  shame. 
For  he  will  pass  the  portal, 

And  strike  the  bridegroom  low; 
But  first  must  cross  the  wide,  wide  court, 

Ere  he  can  reach  his  foe. 
And  he  must  pass  the  crowd  of  men, 

Who  in  the  courtyard  stand, 
Lighting  the  palace  of  the  Moor, 

With  torches  in  their  hand. 
And  Zaida  in  the  midst  comes  forth, 

Her  lover  at  her  side ; 
He  has  come,  amid  his  groomsmen, 

To  take  her  for  his  bride. 
And  bold  Gazul  feels  his  heart  bound 

With  fury  at  the  sight ; 
A  lion's  rage  is  in  his  soul, 

His  brow  is  black  as  night. 
But  now  he  checks  his  anger, 

And  gently  on  his  steed 
Draws  near,  with  smile  of  greeting, 

That  none  may  balk  the  deed. 
And  when  he  reached  the  bridal, 

Where  all  had  taken  their  stand, 
Upon  his  mighty  sword-hilt 
He  sudden  laid  his  hand ; 


ioo  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

And  in  a  voice  that  all  could  hear 

"  Base  craven  Moor,"  said  he, 
"  The  sweet,  the  lovely  Zaida 

Shall  ne'er  be  bride  to  thee. 
And  count  me  not  a  traitor,  I 

Defy  thee  face  to  face, 
Lay  hand  upon  thy  scimitar 

If  thou  hast  heart  of  grace." 
And  with  these  words  he  dealt  one  stroke, 

A  cruel  stroke  and  true, 
It  reached  the  Moor,  it  struck  his  heart 

And  pierced  it  through  and  through. 
Down  fell  the  wretch,  that  single  stroke 

Had  laid  him  with  the  dead — 
"  Now  let  him  die  for  all  his  deeds," 

The  assembled  people  said. 
Gazul  made  bravely  his  defence, 

And  none  could  check  his  flight; 
He  dashed  his  rowels  in  his  steed, 

And  vanished  in  the  night. 

GAZUL  AND   ALBENZAIDE 

"  Tho'  thou  the  lance  can  hurl  as  well 

As  one  a  reed  might  cast, 
Talk  not  of  courage  for  thy  crimes 

Thy  house's  honor  blast. 
Seek  not  the  revel  or  the  dance, 

Loved  by  each  Moorish  dame. 
The  name  of  valor  is  not  thine, 

Thou  hast  a  coward's  name; 
And  lay  aside  thy  mantle  fair 

Thy  veil  and  gaberdine, 
And  boast  no  more  of  gold  and  gems — 

Thou  hast  disgraced  thy  line. 
And  see  thine  arms,  for  honor  fit, 

Are  cheap  and  fashioned  plain; 
Yet  such  that  he  whose  name  is  lost 

May  win  it  back  again. 


GAZUL'S   ARMS  101 

And  Albenzaide  keep  thy  tastes 

Proportioned  to  thy  state; 
For  oft  from  unrestrained  desires 

Spring  hopes  infatuate. 
Flee  from  thy  thoughts,  for  they  have  wings, 

Whose  light  ambition  lifts 
Thy  soul  to  empty  altitudes, 

Where  purpose  veers  and  drifts. 
Fling  not  thyself  into  the  sea, 

From  which  the  breezes  blow 
Now  with  abrupt  disdain,  and  now 

With  flattering  whispers  low. 
For  liberty  once  forfeited 

Is  hard  to  be  regained, 
And  hardest,  when  the  forfeit  falls 

On  heart  and  hand  unstained." 
Thus  spake  Gazul,  the  Moorish  lord 

Of  fame  and  honor  bright; 
Yet,  as  a  craven  beggar, 

Fair  Zaida  scorned  the  knight. 

GAZUL'S  ARMS 

"  Now  scour  for  me  my  coat  of  mail, 

Without  delay,  my  page, 
For,  so  grief's  fire  consumes  me, 

Thy  haste  will  be  an  age; 
And  take  from  out  my  bonnet 

The  verdant  plumes  of  pride, 
Which  once  Azarco  gave  me, 

When  he  took  to  him  his  bride. 
And  in  their  place  put  feathers  black, 

And  write  this  motto  there: 
'  Heavy  as  lead  is  now  his  heart, 

Oppressed  with  a  leaden  care.' 
And  take  away  the  diamonds, 

And  in  their  place  insert 
Black  gems,  that  shall  to  all  proclaim 

The  deed  that  does  me  hurt, 


MOORISH    LITERATURE 

For  if  thou  take  away  those  gems 

It  will  announce  to  all 
The  black  and  dismal  lot  that  does 

Unfortuned  me  befall. 
And  give  to  me  the  buskins  plain, 

Decked  by  no  jewels'  glow, 
For  he  to  whom  the  world  is  false 

Had  best  in  mourning  go. 
And  give  to  me  my  lance  of  war, 

Whose  point  is  doubly  steeled, 
And,  by  the  blood  of  Christians, 

Was  tempered  in  the  field. 
For  well  I  wish  my  goodly  blade 

Once  more  may  burnished  glow; 
And  if  I  can  to  cleave  in  twain 

The  body  of  my  foe. 
And  hang  upon  my  baldric, 

The  best  of  my  ten  swords. 
Black  as  the  midnight  is  the  sheath, 

And  with  the  rest  accords. 
Bring  me  the  horse  the  Christian  slave 

Gave  to  me  for  his  sire, 
At  Jaen ;  and  no  ransom 

But  that  did  I  require. 
And  even  though  he  be  not  shod, 

Make  haste  to  bring  him  here ; 
Though  treachery  from  men  I  dread, 

From  beasts  I  have  no  fear. 
The  straps  with  rich  enamel  decked 

I  bid  you  lay  aside; 
And  bind  the  rowels  to  my  heel 

With  thongs  of  dusky  hide." 
Thus  spake  aloud  the  brave  Gazul, 

One  gloomy  Tuesday  night; 
Gloomy  the  eve,  as  he  prepared 

For  victory  in  the  fight. 
For  on  that  day  the  news  had  come 

That  his  fair  Moorish  maid 
Had  wedded  with  his  bitterest  foe, 


THE   TOURNAMENT  JO3 

The  hated  Albenzaide. 
The  Moor  was  rich  and  powerful, 

But  not  of  lineage  high, 
His  wealth  outweighed  with  one  light  maid 

Three  years  of  constancy. 
Touched  to  the  heart,  on  hearing  this, 

He  stood  in  arms  arrayed, 
Nor  strange  that  he,  disarmed  by  love, 

'Gainst  love  should  draw  his  blade. 
And  Venus,  on  the  horizon, 

Had  shown  her  earliest  ray 
When  he  Sidonia  left,  and  straight 

To  Jerez  took  his  way. 


THE  TOURNAMENT 

His  temples  glittered  with  the  spoils  and  garlands  of  his  love, 
When  stout  Gazul  to  Gelvas  came,  the  jouster's  skill  to  prove. 
He  rode  a  fiery  dappled  gray,  like  wind  he  scoured  the  plain ; 
Yet  all  her  power  and  mettle  could  a  slender  bit  restrain  ; 
The  livery  of  his  pages  was  purple,  green,  and  red — 
Tints  gay  as  was  the  vernal  joy  within  his  bosom  shed. 
And  all  had  lances  tawny  gray,  and  all  on  jennets  rode, 
Plumes  twixt  their  ears ;  adown  their  flanks  the  costly  hous- 
ings flowed. 

Himself  upon  his  gallant  steed  carries  the  circling  shield, 
And  a  new  device  is  blazoned  upon  its  ample  field. 
The  phcenix  there  is  figured,  on  flaming  nest  it  dies, 
And  from  its  dust  and  ashes  again  it  seems  to  rise. 
And  on  the  margin  of  the  shield  this  motto  is  expressed : 
"  Tis  hard  to  hide  the  flames  of  love  once  kindled  in  the 

breast." 
And  now  the  ladies  take  their  seats ;  each  jouster  mounts  his 

steed ; 

From  footmen  and  from  horsemen  flies  fast  the  loaded  reed. 
And  there  appears  fair  Zaida,  whom  in  a  luckless  day 
The  Moor  had  loved,  but  since,  that  love  in  loathing  passed 
away. 


104  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Her  treachery  had  grieved  his  heart,  and  she  who  did  the 
wrong 

Mourned  with  repentant  heart  amid  that  gay  and  happy 
throng. 

And  with  her  was  Zafira,  to  whom  her  husband  brings 

More  bliss  and  happiness  than  reign  amid  Granada's  kings. 

And  when  she  looked  at  brave  Gazul  his  deeds  her  grief  re- 
new; 

The  more  she  sees,  the  more  her  heart  is  ravished  at  the  view. 

And  now  she  blushes  with  desire,  now  grows  with  envy  pale ; 

Her  heart  is  like  the  changing  beam  that  quivers  in  the  scale. 

Alminda  sees  the  lovely  dame  with  sudden  anguish  start, 

And  speaks  with  hope  she  may  reveal  the  secret  of  her  heart. 

And  troubled  Zaida  makes  reply,  "  A  sudden  thought  of  ill 

Has  flashed  across  my  mind  and  caused  the  anguish  that  I 
feel." 

"  'Twere  better,"  said  Alminda,  "  to  check  thy  fancy's  flight, 

For  thought  can  rob  the  happiest  hours  of  all  their  deep  de- 
light." 

Then  said  the  maid  of  Xerez,  "  To  me  thou  showest  plain 

Thou  hast  not  felt  black  envy's  tooth  nor  known  what  is  dis- 
dain. 

To  know  it,  would  thy  spirit  move  to  pity  my  despair, 

Who  writhe  and  die  from  agony,  in  which  thou  hast  no  share." 

Zafira  seized  the  lady's  hand,  and  silence  fell  around, 

As  mixed  in  loud  confusion  brushed  the  jousters  to  the 
ground. 

In  came  the  Berber  tribesmen,  in  varied  cloaks  arrayed ; 

They  ranged  themselves  in  companies  against  the  palisade. 

The  sound  of  barbarous  trumpets  rang,  the  startled  horses 
reared, 

And  snort  and  neigh  and  tramp  of  hoofs  on  every  side  was 
heard, 

Then  troop  meets  troop,  and  valiant  hearts  the  mimic  fight 
pursue ; 

They  hurl  their  javelins  o'er  the  sand  and  pierce  the  bucklers 
through. 

Long  time  the  battling  hosts  contend,  until  that  festive  day, 

The  shout,  the  clash,  the  applauding  cry,  in  silence  die  away. 


ABENUMEYA'S   LAMENT 


105 


They  fain  had  prayed  that  time  himself  would  stop  Apollo's 

car. 

They  hate  to  see  the  sunset  gloom,  the  rise  of  evening's  star. 
And  even  when  the  sun  is  set,  he  who  a  foe  discerns, 
With  no  less  vigor  to  his  targe  the  loaded  javelin  turns, 
The  onset  joined,  each  lance  discharged,  the  judge's  voice  is 

heard ; 
He  bids  the  heralds  sound  a  truce,  and  the  wide  lists  are 

cleared. 

ABENUMEYA'S   LAMENT 

The  young  Abenumeya,  Granada's  royal  heir, 

Was  brave  in  battle  with  his  foe  and  gallant  with  the  fair. 

By  lovely  Felisarda  his  heart  had  been  ensnared, 

The  daughter  of  brave  Ferri,  the  captain  of  the  guard. 

He  through  the  vega  of  Genii  bestrode  his  sorrel  steed, 

Alone,  on  melancholy  thoughts  his  anxious  soul  to  feed, 

The  tints  that  clothed  the  landscape  round  were  gloomy  as 

the  scene 

Of  his  past  life,  wherein  his  lot  had  naught  but  suffering  been. 
His  mantle  hue  was  of  iron  gray  bestrewn  with  purple  flowers, 
Which  bloomed  amid  distress  and  pain,  like  hope  of  happier 

hours. 
And  on  his  cloak  were  columns  worked,  (his  cloak  was  saffron 

hued,) 

To  show  that  dark  suspicion's  fears  had  tried  his  fortitude ; 
His  shield  was  blazoned  with  the  moon,  a  purple  streak  above, 
To  show  that  fears  of  fickleness  are  ever  born  with  love. 
He  bore  an  azure  pennant  'neath  the  iron  of  his  spear, 
To  show  that  lovers  oft  go  wrong  deceived  by  jealous  fear. 
The  hood  he  wore  was  wrought  of  gold  and  silk  of  crimson 

clear ; 
His  bonnet  crest  was  a  heron  plume  with  an  emerald  stone 

beneath ; 

And  under  all  a  motto  ran,  "  Too  long  a  hope  is  death." 
He  started  forth  in  such  array,  but  armed  from  head  to  heel 
With  tempered  blade  and  dagger  and  coat  of  twisted  steel. 
And  hangling  low  at  his  saddle-bow  was  the  helmet  for  his 

head; 


io6  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

And  as  he  journeyed  on  his  way  the  warrior  sighed  and  said : 
"  O  Felisarda,  dearest  maid,  him  in  thy  memory  keep 
Who  in  his  soul  has  writ  thy  name  in  letters  dark  and  deep. 
Think  that  for  thee  in  coat  of  mail  he  ever  rides  afield, 
In  his  right  hand  the  spear  must  stand,  his  left  must  grasp  the 

shield. 

And  he  must  skirmish  in  the  plain  and  broil  of  battle  brave, 
And  wounded  be,  for  weapons  ne'er  from  jealousy  can  save." 
And  as  he  spoke  the  lonely  Moor  from  out  his  mantle's  fold 
With  many  a  sigh,  that  scorched  the  air,  a  lettered  page  un- 
rolled. 

He  tried  in  vain  to  read  it  but  his  eyes  with  tears  were  blind, 
And  mantling  clouds  of  sorrow  hid  the  letters  from  his  mind. 
The  page  was  moistened  by  the  tears  that  flowed  in  plenteous 

tide, 
But  by  the  breath  of  sighs  and  sobs  the  softened  page  was 

dried. 
Fresh  wounds  he  felt  at  sight  of  it,  and  when  the  cause  he 

sought, 

His  spirit  to  Granada  flew  upon  the  wings  of  thought. 
He  thought  of  Albaicin,  the  palace  of  the  dame, 
With  its  gayly  gilded  capitals  and  its  walls  of  ancient  fame. 
And  the  garden  that  behind  it  lay  in  which  the  palm  was  seen 
Swaying  beneath  the  load  of  fruit  its  coronet  of  green. 
"  O  mistress  of  my  soul,"  he  said,  "  who  callest  me  thine  own, 
How  easily  all  bars  to  bliss  thy  love  might  trample  down! 
But  time,  that  shall  my  constancy,  thy  fickleness  will  show, 
The   world   shall   then   my   steadfast   heart,   thy  tongue   of 

treachery  know. 

Woe  worth  the  day  when,  for  thy  sake,  I  fair  Granada  sought, 
These  anxious  doubts  may  cloud  my  brow,  they  cannot  guard 

thy  thought. 

My  foes  increase,  thy  cruelty  makes  absence  bitterer  still, 
But  naught  can  shake  my  constancy,  and  none  can  do  me  ill. 
On  this  from  Alpujarra  the  tocsin  sounded  high. 
He  rushed  as  one  whose  life  is  staked  to  save  the  maid  or  die. 


THE  DESPONDENT   LOVER  107 


THE   DESPONDENT   LOVER 

He  leaned  upon  his  sabre's  hilt, 

He  trod  upon  his  shield, 
Upon  the  ground  he  threw  the  lance 

That  forced  his  foes  to  yield. 
His  bridle  hung  at  saddle-bow, 

And,  with  the  reins  close  bound, 
His  mare  the  garden  entered  free 

To  feed  and  wander  round. 
Upon  a  flowering  almond-tree 

He  fixed  an  ardent  gaze ; 
Its  leaves  were  withered  with  the  wind 

That  flowers  in  ruin  lays. 
Thus  in  Toledo's  garden  park, 

Did  Abenamar  wait, 
Who  for  fair  Galliana 

Watched  at  the  palace  gate. 
The  birds  that  clustered  on  the  towers 

Spread  out  their  wings  to  fly, 
And  from  afar  his  lady's  veil 

He  saw  go  floating  by. 
And  at  this  vision  of  delight, 

Which  healed  his  spirit's  pain, 
The  exiled  Moor  took  courage, 

And  hope  returned  again. 
"  O  Galliana,  best  beloved, 

Whom  art  thou  waiting  now  ? 
And  what  has  treacherous  rendered 

My  fortune  and  thy  vow? 
Thou  swearedst  I  should  be  thine  own, 

Yet  'twas  but  yesterday 
We  met,  and  with  no  greeting 

Thou  wentest  on  thy  way. 
Then,  in  my  silence  of  distress, 

I  wandered  pondering — 
If  this  is  what  to-day  has  brought, 

What  will  to-morrow  bring  ? 
Happy  the  Moor  from  passion  free, 


io8  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

In  peace  or  turmoil  born, 
Who  without  pang  of  hate  or  love, 

Can  slumber  till  the  morn. 
O  almond-tree,  thou  provest 

That  the  expected  hours 
Of  bliss  may  often  turn  to  bane, 

As  fade  thy  dazzling  flowers. 
A  mournful  image  art  thou 

Of  all  that  lays  me  low, 
And  on  my  shield  I'll  bear  thee 

As  blazon  of  my  woe. 
For  thou  dost  bloom  in  many  a  flower, 

Till  blasted  by  the  wind, 
And  'tis  of  thee  this  word  is  true — 

"  The  season  was  not  kind." 
He  spoke  and  on  his  courser's  head 

He  slipped  the  bridle  rein, 
And  while  he  curbed  his  gentle  steed 

He  could  not  curb  his  pain, 
And  to  Ocana  took  his  course, 

O'er  Tagus'  verdant  plain. 

LOVE    AND    JEALOUSY 

"  Unless  thou  wishest  in  one  hour 

Thine  April  hope  shouldst  blighted  be, 
Oh,  tell  me,  Tarfe,  tell  me  true, 

How  I  may  Zaida  chance  to  see. 
I  mean  the  foreigner,  the  wife 

New  wedded,  her  with  golden  hair, 
And  for  each  lock  a  charm  besides 

She  counts — for  she  is  passing  fair. 
Her,  whom  the  Moorish  nobles  all 

To  heaven  in  their  laudation  raise, 
Till  the  fine  ladies  of  the  land 

Are  left  to  languish  in  dispraise. 
The  mosque  I  visit  every  day, 

And  wait  to  see  her  come  in  sight ; 
I  wait  to  see  her,  where  the  rout 

And  revel  lengthen  out  the  night. 


LOVE  AND   JEALOUSY  109 

However,  cost  me  what  it  may, 

I  cannot  meet  the  lovely  dame. 
Ah,  now  my  eyes  are  veiled  in  tears, 

Sure  witness  of  my  jealous  flame. 
And  tell  me,  Tarfe,  that  my  rage 

Has  cause  enough,  for  since  I've  been 
Granada's  guest  (and  would  to  God 

Granada  I  had  never  seen !) 
My  lord  forsakes  me  every  night, 

Nor  till  the  morning  comes  again ; 
He  shuns  as  painful  my  caress, 

My  very  presence  brings  him  pain ; 
Little  indeed  he  recks  of  me, 

If  only  he  may  elsewhere  reign. 
For  if  we  in  the  garden  meet, 

Or  if  we  in  the  chamber  be, 
His  actions  his  estrangement  prove, 

He  has  not  even  words  for  me. 
And  if  I  say  to  him,  '  My  life ! ' 

He  answers  me,  '  My  dearest  dear,' 
Yet  with  a  coldness  that  congeals 

My  very  heart  with  sudden  fear. 
And  all  the  while  I  strive  to  make 

His  soul  reveal  a  traitorous  thought, 
He  turns  his  back  on  me,  as  if 

To  him  my  trembling  fear  was  naught. 
And  when  about  his  neck  I  cling, 

He  drops  his  eyes  and  bows  his  face, 
As  if,  from  thought  of  other  arms 

He  longed  to  slip  from  my  embrace. 
His  bosom  heaves  with  discontent, 

Deep  as  from  hell  the  sigh  is  wrenched ; 
My  heart  with  dark  suspicion  beats, 

And  all  my  happiness  is  quenched. 
And  if  I  ask  of  him  the  cause, 

He  says  the  cause  in  me  is  found; 
That  I  am  vain,  the  rover  I, 

And  to  another's  bosom  bound. 
As  if,  since  I  have  known  his  love, 

I  at  the  window  show  my  face, 


no  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Or  take  another's  hand  in  mine, 

Or  seek  the  bull-ring,  joust,  or  race; 
Or  if  my  footsteps  have  been  found 

To  wander  a  suspected  place, 
The  prophet's  curse  upon  me  fall, 

Unless  to  keep  the  nuptial  pact 
And  serve  the  pleasure  of  my  lord. 

I  kept  the  Koran's  law  exact ! 
But  wherefore  should  I  waste  the  time 

These  tedious  questions  to  recall? 
Thou  knowest  the  chase  on  which  he  hies, 

And  yet  in  silence  hidest  all. 
Nay,  swear  not — I  will  naught  believe ; 

Thine  oaths  are  but  a  fowler's  net, 
And  woe  betide  the  dame  who  falls 

Into  the  snare  that  thou  hast  set. 
For  men  are  traitors  one  and  all ; 

And  all  their  promises  betray; 
Like  letters  on  the  water  writ, 

They  vanish,  when  love's  fires  decay. 
For  to  fulfil  thy  promise  fair, 

What  hours  thou  hast  the  whole  day  long, 
What  chances  on  the  open  road, 

Or  in  the  house  when  bolts  are  strong. 
O  God !   but  what  a  thought  is  this  ? 

I  strangle,  in  the  sudden  thrall 
Of  this  sharp  pang  of  agony, 

Oh,  hold  me,  Tarfe,  lest  I  fall." 
Thus  Adelifa  weeping  cried 

At  thought  of  Abenamar's  quest: 
In  Moorish  Tarfe's  arms  she  fell, 

And  panting  lay  upon  his  breast. 


THE  CAPTIVE  OF  TOLEDO 


THE  CAPTIVE  OF  TOLEDO 

Upon  the  loftiest  mountain  height 

That  rises  in  its  pride, 
And  sees  its  summits  mirrored 

In  Tagus'  crystal  tide, 
The  banished  Abenamar, 

Bound  by  a  captive  chain, 
Looks  on  the  high-road  to  Madrid 

That  seams  the  dusty  plain. 
He  measures,  with  his  pining  eyes, 

The  stretching  hills  that  stand 
Between  his  place  of  banishment 

And  his  sweet  native  land. 
His  sighs  and  tears  of  sorrow 

No  longer  bear  restraint, 
And  thus  in  words  of  anguish 

He  utters  his  complaint: 
"  Oh,  dismal  is  the  exile 

That  wrings  the  heart  with  woes 
And  locks  the  lips  in  silence, 

Amid  unfeeling  foes. 

O  road  of  high  adventure, 

That  leadest  many  a  band 
To  yon  ungrateful  country  where 

My  native  turrets  stand, 
The  country  that  my  valor 

Did  oft  with  glory  crown, 
The  land  that  lets  me  languish  here, 

Who  won  for  her  renown. 
Thou  who  hast  succored  many  a  knight, 

Hast  thou  no  help  for  me, 
Who  languish  on  Toledo's  height 

In  captive  misery? 
'Tis  on  thy  world-wide  chivalry 

I  base  my  word  of  blame, 
'Tis  that  I  love  thee  most  of  all, 

Thy  coldness  brings  me  shame. 


na  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Oh,  dismal  is  the  exile, 

That  wrings  my  heart  with  woes, 

And  locks  my  lips  in  silence 
Among  unfeeling  foes. 

The  warden  of  fierce  Reduan 

With  cruelty  more  deep 
That  that  of  a  hidalgo, 

Has  locked  this  prison  keep; 
And  on  this  frontier  set  me, 

To  pine  without  repose, 
To  watch,  from  dawn  to  sunset, 

Over  his  Christian  foes. 
Here  like  a  watch-tower  am  I  set 

For  Santiago's  lord, 
And  for  a  royal  mistress 

Who  breaks  her  plighted  word. 
And  when  I  cry  with  anguish 

And  seek  in  song  relief, 
With  threats  my  life  is  threatened, 

Till  silence  cloak  my  grief. 
Oh,  dismal  is  the  exile, 

That  wrings  my  heart  with  woes, 
And  locks  my  lips  in  silence 

Among  unfeeling  foes. 

And  when  I  stand  in  silence, 

Me  dumb  my  jailers  deem, 
And  if  I  speak,  in  gentle  words, 

They  say  that  I  blaspheme. 
Thus  grievously  perverting 

The  sense  of  all  I  say, 
Upon  my  lips  the  raging  crowd 

The  gag  of  silence  lay. 
Thus  heaping  wrong  on  wrong  my  foes 

Their  prisoner  impeach, 
Until  the  outrage  of  my  heart 

Deprives  my  tongue  of  speech. 
And  while  my  word  the  passion 

Of  my  sad  heart  betrays, 


THE   BLAZON   OF  ABENAMAR  113 

My  foes  are  all  unconscious 

Of  what  my  silence  says. 
Now  God  confound  the  evil  judge 

Who  caused  my  misery, 
And  had  no  heart  of  pity 

To  soften  his  decree. 
Oh,  dismal  is  the  exile, 

That  wrings  my  heart  with  woes, 
And  locks  my  lips  in  silence 

Among  unfeeling  foes. 


THE  BLAZON  OF  ABENAMAR 

By  gloomy  fortune  overcast, 

Vassal  of  one  he  held  in  scorn, 
Complaining  of  the  wintry  world, 

And  by  his  lady  left  forlorn, 
The  wretched  Abenamar  mourned, 

Because  his  country  was  unkind, 
Had  brought  him  to  a  lot  of  woe, 

And  to  a  foreign  home  resigned. 
A  stranger  Moor  had  won  the  throne, 

And  in  Granada  sat  in  state. 
Many  the  darlings  of  his  soul 

He  claimed  with  love  insatiate, 
He,  foul  in  face,  of  craven  heart, 

Had  won  the  mistress  of  the  knight; 
Her  blooming  years  of  beauteous  youth 

Were  Abenamar's  own  by  right. 
But  royal  favor  had  decreed 

A  foreign  tyrant  there  should  reign, 
For  many  a  galley  owned  him  lord 

And  master,  in  the  seas  of  Spain. 
Oh,  haply  'twas  that  Zaida's  self, 

Ungrateful  like  her  changing  sex, 
Had  chosen  this  emir,  thus  in  scorn 

Her  Abenamer's  soul  to  vex. 
This  was  the  thought  that  turned  to  tears 

The  eyes  of  the  desponding  knight, 
8 


II4  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

As  on  his  sufferings  past  he  thought, 

His  labors  and  his  present  plight; 
His  hopes,  to  disappointment  turned ; 

His  wealth,  now  held  in  alien  hands, 
His  agony  o'er  love  betrayed, 

Lost  honor,  confiscated  lands. 
And  as  his  loyalty  had  met 

Such  ill  requital  from  the  King, 
He  called  his  page  and  bade  him  straight 

A  limner  deft  before  him  bring. 
For  he  would  have  him  paint  at  large, 

In  color,  many  a  new  device 
And  write  his  sufferings  on  his  shield. 

No  single  blazon  would  suffice. 
And  first  a  green  field  parched  and  seared; 

A  coal,  in  myriad  blazes  burned, 
And  like  his  ardent  hopes  of  yore, 

At  length  to  dust  and  ashes  turned. 
And  then  a  miser,  rich  in  gold, 

Who  locks  away  some  jewel  bright, 
For  fear  the  thief  a  gem  may  steal, 

Which  yet  can  yield  him  no  delight. 
A  fair  Adonis  done  to  death 

Beneath  the  wild  boar's  cruel  tusk. 
A  wintry  dawn  on  pallid  skies, 

A  summer's  day  that  turns  to  dusk. 
A  lovely  garden  green  and  fair 

Ravaged  and  slashed  by  strokes  of  steel ; 
Or  wasted  in  its  trim  parterres 

And  trampled  by  the  common  heel. 
So  spake  the  brave  heart-broken  Moor ; 

Until  his  tears  and  struggling  sighs 
Turned  to  fierce  rage ;  the  painting  then 

He  waited  for  with  eager  eyes. 
He  asks  that  one  would  fetch  a  steed, 

Of  his  good  mare  no  more  he  recks, 
For  womankind  have  done  him  wrong, 

And  she  is  woman  in  her  sex. 
The  plumes  of  yellow,  blue,  and  white 

From  off  his  bonnet  brim  he  tears, 


WOMAN'S   FICKLENESS 

He  will  no  longer  carry  them ; 

They  are  the  colors  Zaida  wears. 
He  recks  no  more  of  woman's  love, 

His  city  now  he  bids  farewell, 
And  swears  he  will  no  more  return 

Nor  in  Granada  seek  to  dwell. 


WOMAN'S  FICKLENESS 

A  stout  and  valorous  gentleman, 

Granada  knew  his  worth, 
And  rich  with  many  a  spoil  of  love, 

Went  Abenamar  forth. 
Upon  his  bonnet,  richly  dyed, 

He  bore  a  lettered  scroll, 
It  ran,  "  Tis  only  love  that  makes 

The  solace  of  my  soul." 
His  bonnet  and  his  brow  were  hid 

Beneath  a  hood  of  green, 
And  plumes  of  violet  and  white 

Above  his  head  were  seen. 
And  'twixt  the  tassel  and  the  crown 

An  emerald  circlet  shone. 
The  legend  of  the  jewel  said, 

"  Thou  art  my  hope  alone." 
He  rode  upon  a  dappled  steed 

With  housings  richly  dight, 
And  at  his  left  side  clanking  hung 

A  scimitar  of  might. 
And  his  right  arm  was  sleeved  in  cloth" 

Of  tawny  lion's  hue, 
And  at  his  lance-head,  lifted  high, 

A  Turkish  pennon  flew. 
And  when  he  reached  Daraja's  camp 

He  saw  Daraja  stand 
Beside  his  own  perfidious  love, 

And  clasp  her  by  the  hand. 
He  made  to  her  the  wonted  sign, 

Then  lingered  for  a  while, 


u6  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

For  jealous  anguish  filled  his  heart 

To  see  her  tender  smile. 
He  spurred  his  courser  to  the  blood ; 

One  clattering  bound  he  took, 
The  Moorish  maiden  turned  to  him. 

Ah,  love  was  in  her  look! 
Ah,  well  he  saw  his  hopeless  fate, 

And  in  his  jealous  mood 
The  heart  that  nothing  feared  in  fight 

Was  whelmed  in  sorrow's  flood. 
"  O  false  and  faithless  one,"  he  said, 

"  What  is  it  that  I  view  ? 
Thus  the  foreboding  of  my  soul 

I  see  at  last  come  true ; 
Shame  that  a  janizary  vile, 

Of  Christian  creed  and  race, 
A  butt  of  bright  Alhambra's  feasts, 

Has  taken  now  my  place. 
Where  is  the  love  thou  didst  avow, 

The  pledge,  the  kiss,  the  tear, 
And  all  the  tender  promises 

Thou  whisperedst  in  my  ear? 
Thou,  frailer  than  the  withered  reed, 

More  changeful  than  the  wind, 
More  thankless  than  the  hardest  heart 

In  all  of  womankind; 
I  marvel  not  at  what  I  see, 

Nor  yet  for  vengeance  call ; 
For  thou  art  woman  to  the  core, 

And  in  that  name  is  all." 
The  gallant  Moor  his  courser  checked, 

His  cheek  with  anger  burned, 
Men  saw,  that  all  his  gallant  mien 

To  gloom  and  rage  was  turned. 


KING  JUAN  117 


KING  JUAN 

"  Abenamar,  Abenamar,"  said  the  monarch  to  the  knight, 
"  A  Moor  art  thou  of  the  Moors,  I  trow,  and  the  ladies'  fond 

delight, 

And  on  the  day  when  first  you  lay  upon  your  mother's  breast, 
On  land  and  sea  was  a  prodigy,  to  the  Christians  brought  un- 
rest; 
The  sea  was  still  as  a  ruined  mill  and  the  winds  were  hushed 

to  rest. 
And  the  broad,  broad  moon  sank  down  at  noon,  red  in  the 

stormy  west. 
If  thus  thou  wert  born  thou  well  mayst  scorn  to  ope  those  lips 

of  thine, 

That  out  should  fly  a  treacherous  lie,  to  meet  a  word  of  mine." 
"  I  have  not  lied,"  the  Moor  replied,  and  he  bowed  his  haughty 

head 
Before  the  King  whose  wrath  might  fling  his  life  among  the 

dead. 

"  I  would  not  deign  with  falsehood's  stain  my  lineage  to  betray ; 
Tho'  for  the  truth  my  life,  in  sooth,  should  be  the  price  I  pay. 
I  am  son  and  squire  of  a  Moorish  sire,  who  with  the  Christians 

strove, 
And  the  captive  dame  of  Christian  name  was  his  fair  wedded 

love; 
And  I  a  child  from  that  mother  mild,  who  taught  me  at  her 

knee 
Was  ever  told  to  be  true  and  bold  with  a  tongue  that  was  frank 

and  free, 
That  the  liar's  art  and  the  caitiff  heart  would  lead  to  the  house 

of  doom ; 
And  still  I  must  hear  my  mother  dear,  for  she  speaks  to  me 

from  the  tomb. 
Then  give  me  my  task,  O  King,  and  ask  what  question  thou 

mayst  choose; 

I  will  give  to  you  the  word  that  is  true,  for  why  should  I  re- 
fuse?" 
"  I  give  you  grace  for  your  open  face,  and  the  courteous  words 

you  use. 


n8  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

What  castles  are  those  on  the  hill  where  grows  the  palm-tree 

and  the  pine? 
They  are  so  high  that  they  touch  the  sky,  and  with  gold  their 

pinnacles  shine." 

"  In  the  sunset's  fire  there  glisten,  sire,  Alhambra's  tinted  tiles ; 
And  somewhat  lower  Alij ire's  tower  upon  the  vega  smiles, 
And  many  a  band  of  subtile  hand  has  wrought  its  pillared 

aisles. 
The  Moor  whose  thought  and  genius  wrought  those  works  for 

many  moons 

Received  each  day  a  princely  pay — five  hundred  gold  doub- 
loons— 

Each  day  he  left  his  labor  deft,  his  guerdon  was  denied ; 
Nor  less  he  lost  than  his  labor  cost  when  he  his  hand  applied. 
And  yonder  I  see  the  Generalife  with  its  orchard  green  and 

wide; 
There  are  growing  there  the  apple  and  pear  that  are  Granada's 

pride. 
There  shadows  fall  from  the  soaring  wall  of  high  Bermeja's 

tower ; 
It  has  flourished  long  as  a  castle  strong,  the  seat  of  the  Soldan's 

power." 

The  King  had  bent  and  his  ear  had  lent  to  the  words  the  war- 
rior spoke, 
And  at  last  he  said,  as  he  raised  his  head  before  the  crowd  of 

folk: 
"  I  would  take  thee  now  with  a  faithful  vow,  Granada  for  my 

bride, 
King  Juan's  Queen  would  hold,  I  ween,  a  throne  and  crown  of 

pride ; 
That  very  hour  I  would  give  thee  dower  that  well  would  suit 

thy  will ; 
Cordova's  town  should  be  thine  own,  and  the  mosque  of  proud 

Seville. 
Nay,  ask  not,  King,  for  I  wear  the  ring  of  a  faithful  wife  and 

true; 
Some  graceful  maid  or  a  widow  arrayed  in  her  weeds  is  the 

wife  for  you, 
And  close  I  cling  to  the  Moorish  King  who  holds  me  to  his 

breast, 
For  well  I  ween  it  can  be  seen  that  of  all  he  loves  me  best." 


ABENAMAR'S  JEALOUSY  119 

ABENAMAR'S  JEALOUSY 

Alhambra's  bell  had  not  yet  pealed 
Its  morning  note  o'er  tower  and  field; 
Barmeja's  bastions  glittered  bright, 
O'ersilvered  with  the  morning  light; 
When  rising  from  a  pallet  blest 
With  no  refreshing  dews  of  rest, 
For  slumber  had  relinquished  there 
His  place  to  solitary  care, 
Brave  Abenamar  pondered  deep 
How  lovers  must  surrender  sleep. 
And  when  he  saw  the  morning  rise, 
While  sleep  still  sealed  Daraja's  eyes, 
Amid  his  tears,  to  soothe  his  pain, 
He  sang  this  melancholy  strain : 
"  The  morn  is  up, 

The  heavens  alight, 

My  jealous  soul 

Still  owns  the  sway  of  night. 
Thro'  all  the  night  I  wept  forlorn, 
Awaiting  anxiously  the  morn ; 
And  tho'  no  sunlight  strikes  on  me, 
My  bosom  burns  with  jealousy. 
The  twinkling  starlets  disappear; 
Their  radiance  made  my  sorrow  clear ; 
The  sun  has  vanished  from  my  sight, 
Turned  into  water  is  his  light; 
What  boots  it  that  the  glorious  sun 
From  India  his  course  has  run, 
To  bring  to  Spain  the  gleam  of  day, 
If  from  my  sight  he  hides  away? 

The  morn  is  up, 

The  heavens  are  bright, 

My  jealous  soul 
Still  owns  the  sway  of  night." 


120  MOORISH    LITERATURE 


ADELIFA'S  JEALOUSY 

Fair  Adelifa  sees  in  wrath,  kindled  by  jealous  flames, 
Her  Abenamer  gazed  upon  by  the  kind  Moorish  dames. 
And  if  they  chance  to  speak  to  him,  or  take  him  by  the  hand, 
She  swoons  to  see  her  own  beloved  with  other  ladies  stand. 
When  with  companions  of  his  own,  the  bravest  of  his  race, 
He  meets  the  bull  within  the  ring,  and  braves  him  to  his  face, 
Or  if  he  mount  his  horse  of  war,  and  sallying  from  his  tent 
Engages  with  his  comrades  in  tilt  or  tournament, 
She  sits  apart  from  all  the  rest,  and  when  he  wins  the  prize 
She  smiles  in  answer  to  his  smile  and  devours  him  with  her 

eyes. 

And  in  the  joyous  festival  and  in  Alhambra's  halls, 
She  follows  as  he  treads  the  dance  at  merry  Moorish  balls. 
And  when  the  tide  of  battle  is  rising  o'er  the  land, 
And  he  leaves  his  home,  obedient  to  his  honored  King's  com- 
mand, 

With  tears  and  lamentation  she  sees  the  warrior  go 
With  arms  heroic  to  subdue  the  proud  presumptuous  foe. 
Though  'tis  to  save  his  country's  towers  he  mounts  his  fiery 

steed 
She  has  no  cheerful  word  for  him,  no  blessing  and  godspeed ; 

And  were  there  some  light  pretext  to  keep  him  at  her  side, 

In  chains  of  love  she'd  bind  him  there,  whate'er  the  land  be- 
tide. 

Or,  if  'twere  fair  that  dames  should  dare  the  terrors  of  the 
fight, 

She'd  mount  her  jennet  in  his  train  and  follow  with  delight. 

For  soon  as  o'er  the  mountain  ridge  his  bright  plume  dis- 
appears, 

She  feels  that  in  her  heart  the  jealous  smart  that  fills  her  eyes 
with  tears. 

Yet  when  he  stands  beside  her  and  smiles  beneath  her  gaze, 

Her  cheek  is  pale  with  passion  pure,  though  few  the  words 
she  says. 

Her  thoughts  are  ever  with  him,  and  they  fly  the  mountain  o'er 

When  in  the  shaggy  forest  he  hunts  the  bristly  boar. 


ADELIFA'S  JEALOUSY  121 

In  vain  she  seeks  the  festal  scene  'mid  dance  and  merry  song, 

Her  heart  for  Abenamar  has  left  that  giddy  throng. 

For  jealous  passion  after  all  is  no  ignoble  fire, 

It  is  the  child  of  glowing  love,  the  shadow  of  desire. 

Ah !  he  who  loves  with  ardent  breast  and  constant  spirit  must 

Feel  in  his  inmost  bosom  lodged  the  arrows  of  distrust. 

And  as  the  faithful  lover  by  his  loved  one's  empty  seat 

Knows  that  the  wind  of  love  may  change  e'er  once  again  they 

meet, 

So  to  this  sad  foreboding  do  fancied  griefs  appear 
As  he  who  has  most  cause  to  love  has  too  most  cause  for  fear. 
And  once,  when  placid  evening  was  mellowing  into  night, 
The  lovely  Adelif a  sat  with  her  darling  knight ; 
And  then  the  pent-up  feeling  from  out  her  spirit's  deeps 
Rose  with  a  storm  of  heavy  sighs  and  trembled  on  her  lips : 
"  My  valiant  knight,  who  art,  indeed,  the  whole  wide  world 

to  me, 

Clear  mirror  of  victorious  arms  and  rose  of  chivalry, 
Thou  terror  of  thy  valorous  foe,  to  whom  all  champions  yield, 
The  rampart  and  the  castle  of  fair  Granada's  field, 
In  thee  the  armies  of  the  land  their  bright  example  see, 
And  all  their  hopes  of  victory  are  founded  upon  thee ; 
And  I,  poor  loving  woman,  have  hope  in  thee  no  less, 
For  thou  to  me  art  life  itself,  a  life  of  happiness. 
Yet,  in  this  anxious  trembling  heart  strange  pangs  of  fear  arise, 
Ah,  wonder  not  if  oft  you  see  from  out  these  faithful  eyes 
The  tears  in  torrents  o'er  my  cheek,  e'en  in  thy  presence  flow. 
Half  prompted  by  my  love  for  thee  and  half  by  fears  of  woe, 
These  eyes  are  like  alembics,  and  when  with  tears  they  fill 
It  is  the  flame  of  passion  that  does  that  dew  distil. 
And  what  the  source  from  which  they  flow,  but  the  sorrow  and 

the  care 

That  gather  in  my  heart  like  mist,  and  forever  linger  there. 
And  when  the  flame  is  fiercest  and  love  is  at  its  height, 
The  waters  rise  to  these  fond  eyes,  and  rob  me  of  my  sight, 
For  love  is  but  a  lasting  pain  and  ever  goes  with  grief, 
And  only  at  the  spring  of  tears  the  heart  can  drink  relief. 
Thus  fire  and  love  and  fear  combined  bring  to  my  heart  dis- 
tress, 
With  jealous  rage  and  dark  distrust  alarm  and  fitfulness. 


I2»  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

These  rage  within  my  bosom ;  they  torment  me  till  I'd  weep. 

By  day  and  night  without  delight  a  lonely  watch  I  keep. 

By  Allah,  I  beseech  thee,  if  thou  art  true  to  me, 

That  when  the  Moorish  ladies  turn  round  and  gaze  on  thee, 

Thou  wilt  not  glance  again  at  them  nor  meet  their  smiling  eye, 

Or  else,  my  Abenamar,  I  shall  lay  me  down  and  die. 

For  thou  art  gallant,  fair,  and  good;  oh,  soothe  my  heart's 

alarms, 

And  be  as  tender  in  thy  love  as  thou  art  brave  in  arms. 
And  as  they  yield  to  thee  the  prize  for  valor  in  the  field 
Oh,  show  that  thou  wilt  pity  to  thy  loving  lady  yield." 
Then  Abenamar,  with  a  smile,  a  kiss  of  passion  gave. 
"  If  it  be  needful,"  he  replied,  "  to  give  the  pledge  you  crave, 
To  tell  thee,  Adelifa,  that  thou  art  my  soul's  delight 
And  lay  my  inmost  bosom  bare  before  thy  anxious  sight, 
The  bosom  on  whose  mirror  shines  thy  face  in  lines  of  light, 
Here  let  me  ope  the  secret  cell  that  thou  thyself  may  see, 
The  altar  and  the  blazing  lamp  that  always  burn  for  thee. 
And  if  perchance  thou  art  not  thus  released  from  torturing 

care, 

Oh,  see  the  faith,  the  blameless  love  that  wait  upon  thee  there. 
And  if  thou  dost  imagine  I  am  a  perjured  knight, 
I  pray  that  Allah  on  my  head  may  call  down  bane  and  blight, 
And  when  into  the  battle  with  the  Christian  I  go 
I  pray  that  I  may  perish  by  the  lances  of  the  foe ; 
And  when  I  don  my  armor  for  the  toils  of  the  campaign, 
That  I  may  never  wear  the  palm  of  victory  again, 
But  as  a  captive,  on  a  shore  far  from  Granada,  pine, 
While  the  freedom  that  I  long  to  have  may  never  more  be 

mine. 

Yes,  may  my  foes  torment  me  in  that  sad  hour  of  need ; 
My  very  friends,  for  their  own  ends,  prove  worthless  as  a  reed. 
My  kin  deny,  my  fortune  fly,  and,  on  my  dying  day, 
My  very  hopes  of  Paradise  in  darkness  pass  away. 
Or  if  I  live  in  freedom  to  see  my  love  once  more, 
May  I  meet  the  fate  which  most  I  hate,  and  at  my  palace  door 
Find  that  some  caitiff  lover  has  won  thee  for  his  own, 
And  turn  to  die,  of  mad  despair,  distracted  and  alone. 
Wherefore,  my  life,  my  darling  wife,  let  all  thy  pain  be  cured  ; 
Thy  trust  in  my  fidelity  be  from  this  hour  assured. 


FUNERAL   OF   ABENAMAR  ia^ 

No  more  those  pearly  tears  of  thine  fall  useless  in  the  dust 

No  more  the  jealous  fear  distract  thy  bosom  with  mistrust. 

Believe  me  by  the  oath  I  swear  my  heart  I  here  resign, 

And  all  I  have  of  love  and  care  are,  Adelifa,  thine. 

Believe  that  Abenamar  would  his  own  life  betray 

If  he  had  courage  thus  to  throw  life's  choicest  gem  away." 

Then  Adelifa  smiled  on  him  and  at  the  words  he  said, 

Upon  his  heaving  bosom  her  blushing  cheek  she  laid. 

And  from  that  hour  each  jealous  thought  far  from  her  mind 

she  thrust 
And  confidence  returned  again  in  place  of  dark  distrust. 

FUNERAL  OF  ABENAMAR 

The  Moors  of  haughty  Gelves  have  changed  their  gay  attire. 
The  caftan  and  the  braided  cloak,  the  brooch  of  twisted  wire, 
The  gaudy  robes,  the  mantles  of  texture  rich  and  rare, 
The  fluttering  veils  and  tunic  bright  the  Moors  no  longer  wear. 
And  wearied  is  their  valorous  strength,  their  sinewy  arms 

hang  down ; 

No  longer  in  their  lady's  sight  they  struggle  for  the  crown. 
Whether  their  loves  are  absent  or  glowing  in  their  eyes, 
They  think  no  more  of  jealous  feud  nor  smile  nor  favor  prize ; 
For  love  himself  seems  dead  to-day  amid  that  gallant  train 
And  the  dirge  beside  the  bier  is  heard  and  each  one  joins  the 

strain, 

And  silently  they  stand  in  line  arrayed  in  mourning  black 
For  the  dismal  pall  of  Portugal  is  hung  on  every  back. 
And  their  faces  turned  toward  the  bier  where  Abenamar  lies, 
The  men  his  kinsmen  silent  stand,  amid  the  ladies'  cries 
And  thousand  thousands  ask  and  look  upon   the   Moorish 

knight, 
By  his  coat  of  steel  they  weeping  kneel,  then  turn  them  from 

the  sight. 

And  some  proclaim  his  deeds  of  fame,  his  spirit  high  and  brave, 
And  the  courage  of  adventure  that  had  brought  him  to  the 

grave. 

Some  say  that  his  heroic  soul  pined  with  a  jealous  smart, 
That  disappointment  and  neglect  had  broke  that  mighty  heart ; 
That  all  his  ancient  hopes  gave  way  beneath  the  cloud  of  grief, 


124  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Until  his  green  and  youthful  years  were  withered  like  a  leaf ; 
And  he  is  wept  by  those  he  loved,  by  every  faithful  friend, 
And  those  who  slandered  him  in  life  speak  evil  to  the  end. 
They  found  within  his  chamber  where  his  arms  of  battle  hung 
A  parting  message  written  all  in  the  Moorish  tongue: 
"  Dear  friends  of  mine,  if  ever  in  Gelves  I  should  die, 
I  would  not  that  in  foreign  soil  my  buried  ashes  lie. 
But  carry  me,  and  dig  my  grave  upon  mine  own  estate, 
And  raise  no  monument  to  me  my  life  to  celebrate, 
For  banishment  is  not  more  dire  where  evil  men  abound, 
Than  where  home  smiles  upon  you,  but  the  good  are  never 
found." 


BALLAD  OF  ALBAYALDOS 

Three  mortal  wounds,  three  currents  red, 

The  Christian  spear 
Has  oped  in  head  and  thigh  and  head — 

Brave  Albayaldos  feels  that  death  is  near. 

The  master's  hand  had  dealt  the  blow, 

And  long  had  been 
And  hard  the  fight ;  now  in  his  heart's  blood  low 

He  wallows,  and  the  pain,  the  pain  is  keen. 

He  raised  to  heaven  his  streaming  face 

And  low  he  said : 
"  Sweet  Jesus,  grant  me  by  thy  grace, 

Unharmed  to  make  this  passage  to  the  dead. 

"  Oh,  let  me  now  my  sins  recount, 

And  grant  at  last 
Into  thy  presence  I  may  mount, 

And  thou,  dear  mother,  think  not  of  my  past. 

"  Let  not  the  fiend  with  fears  affright 

My  trembling  soul; 
Though  bitter,  bitter  is  the  night 

Whose  darkling  clouds  this  moment  round  me  roll. 


THE  NIGHT  RAID  OF  REDUAN  125 

"  Had  I  but  listened  to  your  plea, 

I  ne'er  had  met 
Disaster;  though  this  life  be  lost  to  me, 

Let  not  your  ban  upon  my  soul  be  set. 

"  In  him,  in  him  alone  I  trust, 

To  him  I  pray, 
Who  formed  this  wretched  body  from  the  dust. 

He  will  redeem  me  in  the  Judgment  Day. 

"  And  Muza,  one  last  service  will  I  ask, 

Dear  friend  of  mine : 
Here,  where  I  died,  be  it  thy  pious  task 

To  bury  me  beneath  the  tall  green  pine. 

"  And  o'er  my  head  a  scroll  indite,  to  tell 

How,  on  this  sod, 
Fighting  amid  my  valiant  Moors,  I  fell. 

And  tell  King  Chico  how  I  turned  to  God, 

"  And  longed  to  be  a  Christian  at  the  last, 

And  sought  the  light, 
So  that  the  accursed  Koran  could  not  cast 

My  soul  to  suffer  in  eternal  night." 


THE  NIGHT  RAID  OF  REDUAN 

Two  thousand  are  the  Moorish  knights  that  'neath  the  banner 

stand 

Of  mighty  Reduan,  as  he  starts  in  ravage  thro'  the  land. 
With  pillage  and  with  fire  he  wastes  the  fields  and  fruitful 

farms, 

And  thro'  the  startled  border-land  is  heard  the  call  to  arms ; 
By  Jaen's  towers  his  host  advance  and,  like  a  lightning  flash, 
Ubeda  and  Andujar  can  see  his  horsemen  dash, 
While  in  Baeza  every  bell 

Does  the  appalling  tidings  tell, 

"Arm!  Arm!" 

Rings  on  the  night  the  loud  alarm. 


126  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

So  silently  they  gallop,  that  gallant  cavalcade, 

The  very  trumpet's  muffled  tone  has  no  disturbance  made. 

It  seems  to  blend  with  the  whispering  sound  of  breezes  on 

their  way, 

The  rattle  of  their  harness  and  the  charger's  joyous  neigh. 
But  now  from  hill  and  turret  high  the  flaming  cressets  stream 
And  watch-fires  blaze  on  every  hill  and  helm  and  hauberk 

gleam. 

From  post  to  post  the  signal  along  the  border  flies 
And  the  tocsin  sounds  its  summons  and  the  startled  burghers 
rise, 

While  in  Baeza  every  bell 

Does  the  appalling  tidings  tell, 

"Arm!  Arm!" 

Rings  on  the  night  the  loud  alarm. 

Ah,  suddenly  that  deadly  foe  has  fallen  upon  the  prey, 
Yet  stoutly  rise  the  Christians  and  arm  them  for  the  foe, 
And  doughty  knights  their  lances  seize  and  scour  their  coats 

of  mail, 
The  soldier  with  his  cross-bow  comes  and  the  peasant  with  his 

flail. 

And  Jaen's  proud  hidalgos,  Andujar's  yeomen  true, 
And  the  lords  of  towered  Ubeda  the  pagan  foes  pursue ; 
And  valiantly  they  meet  the  foe  nor  turn  their  backs  in  flight, 
And  worthy  do  they  show  themselves  of  their  fathers'  deeds 
of  might, 

While  in  Baeza  every  bell 

Does  the  appalling  tidings  tell, 

"Arm!  Arm!" 

Rings  on  the  night  the  loud  alarm. 

The  gates  of  dawn  are  opened  and  sunlight  fills  the  land, 
The  Christians  issuing  from  the  gates  in  martial  order  stand, 
They  close  in  fight,  and  paynim  host  and  Christian  knights  of 

Spain, 
Not  half  a  league  from  the  city  gate,  are  struggling  on  the 

plain. 

The  din  of  battle  rises  like  thunder  to  the  sky, 
From  many  a  crag  and  forest  the  thundering  echoes  fly, 


SIEGE  OF  JAEN  127 

And  there  is  sound  of  clashing  arms,  of  sword  and  rattling 

steel, 
Moorish  horns,  the  fife  and  drum,  as  the  scattering  squadrons 

reel, 

And  the  dying  moan  and  the  wounded  shriek  for  the  hurt  that 
none  can  heal, 

While  in  Baeza  every  bell 

Does  the  appalling  tidings  tell, 

"  Arm !  Arm !  " 

Rings  on  the  night  the  loud  alarm. 

SIEGE  OF  JAEN 

Now  Reduan  gazes  from  afar  on  Jaen's  ramparts  high, 
And  tho'  he  smiles  in  triumph  yet  fear  is  in  his  eye, 
And  vowed  has  he,  whose  courage  none  charged  with  a  de- 
fault, 

That  he  would  climb  the  ramparts  and  take  it  by  assault, 
Yet  round  the  town  the  towers  and  walls  the  city's  streets  im- 
pale, 

And  who  of  all  his  squadrons  that  bastion  can  scale  ? 
He  pauses  until  one  by  one  his  hopes  have  died  away, 
And  his  soul  is  filled  with  anguish  and  his  face  with  deep  dis- 
may. 

He  marks  the  tall  escarpment,  he  measures  with  his  eye 
The  soaring  towers  above  them  that  seem  to  touch  the  sky. 
Height  upon  height  they  mount  to  heaven,  while  glittering 

from  afar 

Each  cresset  on  the  watch-towers  burns  like  to  a  baleful  star. 
His  eyes  and  heart  are  fixed  upon  the  rich  and  royal  town, 
And  from  his  eye  the  tear  of  grief,  a  manly  tear,  flows  down. 
His  bosom  heaves  with  sighs  of  grief  and  heavy  discontent, 
As  to  the  royal  city  he  makes  his  sad  lament: 
"  Ah,  many  a  champion  have  I  lost,  fair  Jaen,  at  thy  gate, 
Yet  lightly  did  I  speak  of  thee  with  victory  elate, 
The  prowess  of  my  tongue  was  more  than  all  that  I  could  do, 
And  my  word  outstripped  the  lance  and  sword  of  my  squadron 

strong  and  true. 

And  yet  I  vowed  with  courage  rash  thy  turrets  I  would  bring 
To  ruin  and  thy  subjects  make  the  captives  of  my  King. 


J28  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

That  in  one  night  my  sword  of  might,  before  the  morrow's  sun, 
Would  do  for  thy  great  citadel  what  centuries  have  not  done. 
I  pledged  my  life  to  that  attempt,  and  vowed  that  thou  shouldest 

fall, 

Yet  now  I  stand  in  impotence  before  thy  castle  tall. 
For  well  I  see,  before  my  might  shall  win  thee  for  my  King, 
That  thou,  impregnable,  on  me  wilt  rout  and  ruin  bring, 
Ah,  fatal  is  the  hasty  tongue  that  gives  such  quick  consent, 
And  he  who  makes  the  hasty  vow  in  leisure  must  repent. 
Ah !  now  too  late  I  mourn  the  word  that  sent  me  on  this  quest, 
For  I  see  that  death  awaits  me  here  whilst  thou  livest  on  at  rest, 
For  I  must  enter  Jaen's  gates  a  conqueror  or  be  sent 
Far  from  Granada's  happy  hills  in  hopeless  banishment; 
But  sorest  is  the  thought  that  I  to  Lindaraja  swore: 
If  Jaen  should  repulse  me  I'd  return  to  her  no  more ; 
No  more  a  happy  lover  would  I  linger  at  her  side, 
Until  Granada's  warrior  host  had  humbled  Jaen's  pride." 
Then  turning  to  his  warriors,  the  Moorish  cavalier 
Asks  for  their  counsel  and  awaits  their  answer  while  with  fear. 
Five  thousand  warriors  tried  and  true  the  Moors  were  stand- 
ing near, 
All  armed  with  leathern  buckler,  all  armed  with  sword  and 

spear. 
"  The  place,"  they  answer,  "  is  too  strong,  by  walls  too  high 

'tis  bound, 

Too  many  are  the  watch-towers  that  circle  it  around. 
The  knights  and  proud  hidalgos  who  on  the  wall  are  seen, 
Their  hearts  are  bold,  their  arms  are  strong,  their  swords  and 

spears  are  keen. 

Disaster  will  be  certain  as  the  rising  of  the  day, 
And  victory  and  booty  are  a  slippery  prize,"  they  say, 
"  It  would  be  wise  in  this  emprise  the  conflict  to  forego ; 
Not  all  the  Moors  Granada  boasts  could  lay  proud  Jaen  low." 


THE   DEATH    OF   REDUAN  129 


THE   DEATH   OF   REDUAN 

He  shrank  not  from  his  promise,  did  Reduan  the  brave, 
The  promise  to  Granada's  King  with  daring  high  he  gave ; 
And  when  the  morning  rose  and  lit  the  hills  with  ruddy  glow, 
He  marshalled  forth  his  warriors  to  strike  a  final  blow. 
With  shouts  they  hurry  to  the  walls,  ten  thousand  fighting 

men — 

Resolved  to  plant  the  crescent  on  the  bulwarks  of  Jaen. 
The  bugle  blast  upon  the  air  with  clarion  tone  is  heard, 
The  burghers  on  the  city  wall  reply  with  scoffing  word; 
And  like  the  noise  of  thunder  the  clattering  squadrons  haste, 
And  on  his  charger  fleet  he  leads  his  army  o'er  the  waste. 
In  front  of  his  attendants  his  march  the  hero  made, 
He  tarried  not  for  retinue  or  clattering  cavalcade, 
And  they  who  blamed  the  rash  assault  with  weak  and  coward 

minds 

Deserted  him  their  leader  bold  or  loitered  far  behind. 
And  now  he  stands  beneath  the  wall  and  sees  before  him  rise 
The  object  of  the  great  campaign,  his  valor's  priceless  prize ; 
He  dreams  one  moment  that  he  holds  her  subject  to  his  arms, 
He  dreams  that  to  Granada  he  flies  from  war's  alarms, 
Each  battlement  he  fondly  eyes,  each  bastion  grim  and  tall, 
And  in  fancy  sees  the  crescents  rise  above  the  Christian  wall. 
But  suddenly  an  archer  has  drawn  his  bow  of  might, 
And  suddenly  the  bolt  descends  in  its  unerring  flight, 
Straight  to  the  heart  of  Reduan  the  fatal  arrow  flies, 
The  gallant  hero  struck  to  death  upon  the  vega  lies. 
And  as  he  lies,  from  his  couch  of  blood,  in  melancholy  tone, 
Thus  to  the  heavens  the  hero  stout,  though  fainting,  makes  his 

moan, 

And  ere  his  lofty  soul  in  death  forth  from  its  prison  breaks, 
Brave  Reduan  a  last  farewell  of  Lindaraja  takes: 
"  Ah,  greater  were  the  glory  had  it  been  mine  to  die, 
Not  thus  among  the  Christians  and  hear  their  joyful  cry, 
But  in  that  happy  city,  reclining  at  thy  feet, 
Where  thou  with  kind  and  tender  hands  hast  wove  my  wind- 
ing-sheet. 

Ah !  had  it  been  my  fate  once  more  to  gaze  upon  thy  face, 
9 


1 3o  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

And  love  and  pity  in  those  eyes  with  dying  glance  to  trace, 
Altho'  a  thousand  times  had  death  dissolved  this  mortal  frame, 
Soon  as  thy  form  before  me  in  radiant  beauty  came, 
A  thousand  times  one  look  of  thine  had  given  me  back  my 

breath, 

And  called  thy  lover  to  thy  side  even  from  the  gate  of  death. 
What  boots  it,  Lindaraja,  that  I,  at  Jaen's  gate, 
That  unsurrendered  city,  have  met  my  final  fate? 
What  boots  it,  that  this  city  proud  will  ne'er  the  Soldan  own, 
For  thee  and  not  for  Jaen  this  hour  I  make  my  moan ; 
I  weep  for  Lindaraja,  I  weep  to  think  that  she 
May  mourn  a  hostage  and  a  slave  in  long  captivity. 
But  worse  than  this  that  some  proud  Moor  will  take  thee  to 

his  heart, 

And  all  thy  thoughts  of  Reduan  new  love  may  bid  depart. 
And  dwelling  on  thy  beauty  he  will  deem  it  better  far, 
To  win  fair  Lindaraja  than  all  the  spoils  of  war, 
Yet  would  I  pray  if  Mahomet,  whose  servant  I  have  been, 
Should  ever  from  the  throne  of  God  look  on  this  bloody  scene, 
And  deem  it  right  to  all  my  vows  requital  fit  to  make, 
And  for  my  valor  who  attacked  the  town  I  could  not  take, 
That  he  would  make  thy  constancy  as  steadfast  as  the  tower 
Of  Jaen's  mighty  fortress,  that  withstood  the  Moorish  power ; 
Now  as  my  life  be  ebbing  fast,  my  spirit  is  oppressed, 
And  Reduan  the  warrior  bold  is  sinking  to  his  rest, 
Oh,  may  my  prayers  be  answered,  if  so  kind  heaven  allow, 
And  may  the  King  forgive  me  for  the  failure  of  my  vow, 
And,  Lindaraja,  may  my  soul,  when  it  has  taken  its  flight, 
And  for  the  sweet  Elysian  fields  exchange  these  realms  of 

night, 

Contented  in  the  joys  and  peace  of  that  celestial  seat, 
Await  the  happy  moment  when  we  once  more  shall  meet." 


THE  AGED   LOVER  131 

THE  AGED   LOVER 

'Twas  from  a  lofty  balcony  Arselia  looked  down 
On  golden  Tagus'  crystal  stream  that  hemmed  Toledo's  town ; 
And  now  she  watched  the  eddies  that  dimpled  in  the  flood 
And  now  she  landward  turned  her  eye  to  gaze  on  waste  and 

wood, 

But  in  all  that  lay  around  her  she  sought  for  rest  in  vain, 
For  her  heart,  her  heart  was  aching,  and  she  could  not  heal  the 

pain. 

'Tis  of  no  courtly  gallant  the  Moorish  damsel  dreams, 
No  lordly  emir  who  commands  the  fort  by  Tagus'  streams, 
'Twas  on  the  banks  of  Tornes  stood  the  haughty  towers  of 

note 
Where  the  young  alcayde  loved  by  the  maid  from  cities  dwelt 

remote. 

And  never  at  Almanzor's  court  had  he  for  honor  sought, 
Though  he  dwelt  in  high  Toledo  in  fair  Arselia's  thought; 
And  now  she  dreams  of  love's  great  gift,  of  passion's  deep  de- 
light, 

When  far  away  from  her  palace  walls  a  stranger  came  in  sight. 
It  was  no  gallant  lovelorn  youth  she  saw  approaching  fast, 
It  was  the  hero  Reduan  whose  vernal  years  were  past. 
He  rode  upon  a  sorrel  horse  and  swiftly  he  came  nigh, 
And  stood  where  the  dazzling  sun  beat  down  upon  her  balcony ; 
And  with  a  thoughtful  air  upon  the  maiden  turned  his  eye, 
For  suddenly  the  aged  knight  feels  all  his  heart  on  fire, 
And  all  the  frost  of  his  broken  frame  is  kindling  with  desire. 
And  while  he  fain  would  hide  his  pain  he  paces  up  and  down 
Before  the  palace  turrets  that  Toledo's  rampart  crown. 
With  anger  glows  the  maiden's  mind,  "  Now  get  thee  gone," 

she  cries, 

"  For  can  it  be  that  love  of  me  in  blood  like  thine  can  rise  ? 
I  sicken  at  the  very  thought ;  thy  locks,  old  man,  are  gray, 
Thy  baldness  and  thy  trembling  hand  a  doting  age  betray. 
Ah,  little  must  thou  count  my  years  of  beauty  and  of  bloom, 
If  thou  wouldst  wed  them  with  a  life  thus  tottering  to  the  tomb, 
Decrepitude  is  now  thy  lot,  and  wherefore  canst  thou  dare 
To  ask  that  youthful   charms  these  vile  infirmities   should 

share?" 


1 32  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

And  Moorish  Reduan  heard  her  words,  and  saw  the  meaning 

plain. 

Advancing  to  the  balcony  he  answered  her  again: 
"  The  sun  is  king  of  everything,  o'er  all  he  holds  his  sway, 
And  thou  art  like  the  sun — thy  charms  I  own  and  I  obey ; 
Thy  beauty  warms  my  veins  again,  and  in  its  rays,  forsooth, 
I  feel  the  blithe,  courageous  mood  of  long- forgotten  youth ; 
Sure  love  of  mine  can  harm  thee  not,  as  sunlight  is  not  lost 
When  its  kind  radiance  dissolves  the  fetters  of  the  frost." 
Then  turning  round,  a  parchment  did  Reduan  unfold, 
And  on  it  was  a  writing  in  characters  of  gold ; 
The  meaning  of  the  posy  at  once  the  maiden  caught: 
"  Since  I  can  venture,  I  can  have ;  as  yet,  I  am  not  naught." 
He  shows  upon  his  shield  a  sun,  circled  with  burning  rays ; 
And  on  the  rim  was  written  a  little  verse  which  says, 
"  Two  suns,  one  on  my  shield,  and  one  in  beauty's  eyes,  I 

trace." 

Then  at  the  cold  disdain  he  saw  upon  her  lovely  face, 
He  covered  with  a  gauzy  veil  the  blazon  of  his  shield, 
"  The  sun  upon  my  targe,"  he  cried,  "  before  thy  light  must 

yield." 

But  as  the  maid  still  pouted  and  eyed  him  with  disdain, 
"  The  mimic  sun,"  continued  he,  "  which  here  is  blazoned  plain, 
Is  overcast  and  hides  itself  from  the  true  orb  of  day, 
And  I  by  beauty's  radiance  eclipsed  must  ride  away." 
And  as  he  spoke  the  Moor  struck  deep  the  rowels  in  his  steed, 
And  rode  away  from  Tagus'  side  across  the  grassy  mead. 
The  Moorish  maiden  recked  not  if  he  were  far  or  near, 
Her  thoughts  returned  to  fancies  sweet  of  her  absent  cavalier. 

FICKLENESS  REBUKED 

While  in  the  foeman's  ruddy  gore 

I  waded  to  the  breast, 
And  for  mine  own,  my  native  shore 

Fought  braver  than  the  best, 
While  the  light  cloak  I  laid  aside, 

And  doffed  the  damask  fold, 
And  donned  my  shirt  of  mail,  the  spoil 

Of  foeman  brave  and  bold, 


FICKLENESS   REBUKED 

Thou,  fickle  Mooress,  puttest  on 

Thine  odorous  brocade, 
And  hand  in  hand  with  thy  false  love 

Wert  sitting  in  the  shade. 
Thus  on  the  scutcheon  of  thy  sires 

Thou  plantest  many  a  stain; 
The  pillars  of  thine  ancient  house 

Will  ne'er  be  firm  again. 
But,  oh,  may  Allah  vengeance  take 

For  thine  unkind  deceit, 
And  sorely  weeping  mayst  thou  pay 

The  vengeance  that  is  meet. 
Thus  shalt  thou  pay — thy  lover's  bliss 

Thou  shalt  not,  canst  not  share, 
But  feel  the  bitter  mockery 

Thy  day-long  shame  must  bear. 
And  what  revenge  'twill  be  to  note 

When  thou  dost  kiss  his  brow, 
How  thy  gold  tresses,  soft  and  light, 

Blend  with  his  locks  of  snow; 
And  what  revenge  to  hear  him 

To  thee  his  loves  recount, 
Praising  some  Moorish  lass,  or  mark 

His  sons  thy  staircase  mount. 
Yes,  thou  shalt  pay  the  penalty, 

When,  from  sweet  Genii's  side, 
Thou  passest  to  the  stormy  waves 

Of  Tagus'  rushing  tide ; 
Abencerrajes  are  not  there, 

And  from  thy  balcony 
Thou  shalt  not  hear  the  horsemen 

With  loud  hoof  rushing  by. 
Thoughts  of  lost  days  shall  haunt  thee  then 

And  lay  thy  spirit  waste, 
When  thy  past  glories  thou  shalt  see 

All  faded  and  effaced; 
All  gone,  those  sweet,  seductive  wiles — 

The  love  note's  scented  scroll — 
The  words,  and  blushing  vows,  that  brought 

Damnation  to  thy  soul. 


I34  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Thus  the  bright  moments  of  the  past 

Shall  rise  to  memory's  eye, 
Like  vengeance-bearing  ministers 

To  mock  thy  misery. 
For  time  is  father  of  distress ; 

And  he  whose  life  is  long 
Experiences  a  thousand  cares, 

A  thousand  shapes  of  wrong. 
Thou  shalt  be  hated  in  the  court, 

And  hated  in  the  stall, 
Hated  in  merry  gathering, 

In  dance  and  festival. 
Thou  shalt  be  hated  far  and  wide; 

And,  thinking  on  this  hate, 
Wilt  lay  it  to  the  black  offence 

That  thou  didst  perpetrate. 
Then  thou  wilt  make  some  weak  defence, 

And  plead  a  father's  will, 
That  forced  thee  shuddering  to  consent 

To  do  the  act  of  ill. 
Enjoy  then  him  whom  thus  constrained 

Thou  choosest  for  thine  own; 
But  know,  when  love  would  have  his  way, 

He  scorns  a  father's  frown. 


THE   GALLEY-SLAVE  OF   DRAGUT 

Ah,  fortune's  targe  and  butt  was  he, 

On  whom  were  rained  the  strokes  from  hate 
From  love  that  had  not  found  its  goal, 

From  strange  vicissitudes  of  fate. 
A  galley-slave  of  Dragut  he, 

Who  once  had  pulled  the  laboring  oar, 
Now,  'mid  a  garden's  leafy  boughs, 

He  worked  and  wept  in  anguish  sore. 
"  O  Mother  Spain !  for  thy  blest  shore 

Mine  eyes  impatient  yearn  ; 
For  thy  choicest  gem  is  bride  of  mine, 

And  she  longs  for  my  return. 


THE   GALLEY-SLAVE  OF   DRAGUT 

They  took  me  from  the  galley  bench; 

A  gardener's  slave  they  set  me  here, 
That  I  might  tend  the  fruit  and  flowers 

Through  all  the  changes  of  the  year; 
Wise  choice,  indeed,  they  made  of  me! 

For  when  the  drought  has  parched  the  field, 
The  clouds  that  overcast  my  heart 

Shall  rain  in  every  season  yield. 
O  mother  Spain !  for  thy  blest  shore 

Mine  eyes  impatient  yearn; 
For  thy  choicest  gem  is  bride  of  mine, 

And  she  longs  for  my  return. 

They  took  me  from  the  galley's  hold; 

It  was  by  heaven's  all-pitying  grace, 
Yet,  even  in  this  garden  glade, 

Has  fortune  turned  away  her  face. 
Though  lighter  now  my  lot  of  toil, 

Yet  is  it  heavier,  since  no  more 
My  tear-dimmed  eyes,  my  heart  discern, 

Across  the  sea,  my  native  shore. 
O  mother  Spain  !  for  thy  blest  shore 

Mine  eyes  impatient  yearn ; 
For  thy  choicest  gem  is  bride  of  mine, 

And  she  longs  for  my  return. 

And  you,  ye  exiles,  who  afar 

In  many  a  foreign  land  have  strayed ; 
And  from  strange  cities  o'er  the  sea 

A  second  fatherland  have  made — 
Degenerate  sons  of  glorious  Spain! 

One  thing  ye  lacked  to  keep  you  true, 
The  love  no  stranger  land  could  share ; 

The  courage  that  could  fate  subdue. 
O  mother  Spain !  for  thy  blest  shore 

Mine  eyes  impatient  yearn ; 
For  thy  choicest  gem  is  bride  of  mine, 

And  she  longs  for  my  return." 


136  MOORISH    LITERATURE 


THE  CAPTIVE'S  LAMENT 

Where  Andalusia's  plains  at  length  end  in  the  rocky  shore, 
And  the  billows  of  the  Spanish  sea  against  her  boundaries  roar, 
A  thousand  ruined  castles,  that  were  once  the  haughty  pride 
Of  high  Cadiz,  in  days  long  past,  looked  down  upon  the  tide. 
And  on  the  loftiest  of  them  all,  in  melancholy  mood, 
A  solitary  captive  that  stormy  evening  stood. 
For  he  had  left  the  battered  skiff  that  near  the  land  wash  lay, 
And  here  he  sought  to  rest  his  soul,  and  while  his  grief  away, 

While  now,  like  furies,  from  the  east  the  gale  began  to 
blow, 

And  with  the  crash  of  thunder  the  billows  broke  below. 

Ah,  yes,  beneath  the   fierce  levant,  the  wild   white  horses 

pranced ; 

With  rising  rage  the  billows  against  those  walls  advanced; 
But  stormier  were  the  thoughts  that  filled  his  heart  with  bitter 

pain, 

As  he  turned  his  tearful  eyes  once  more  to  gaze  upon  the  main. 
"  O  hostile  sea,"  these  words  at  last  burst  from  his  heaving 

breast ; 

"  I  know  that  I  return  to  die,  but  death  at  least  is  rest. 
Then  let  me  on  my  native  shore  again  in  freedom  roam, 
For  here  alone  is  shelter,  for  here  at  last  is  home." 

And  now,  like  furies,  from  the  east  the  gale  began  to 

blow, 
And  with  the  crash  of  thunder  the  billows  broke  below. 

'Twas  Tagus'  banks  to  me  a  child  my  home  and  nurture  gave ; 

Ungrateful  land,  that  lets  me  pine  unransomed  as  a  slave. 

For  now  to-day,  a  dying  man,  am  I  come  back  again, 

And  I  must  lay  my  bones  on  this,  the  farthest  shore  of  Spain. 

It  is  not  only  exile's  sword  that  cuts  me  to  the  heart; 

It  is  not  only  love  for  her  from  whom  they  bade  me  part ; 

Nor  only  that  I  suffer,  forgot  by  every  friend, 

But,  ah !  it  is  the  triple  blow  that  brings  me  to  my  end." 

And  now,  like  furies,  from  the  east  the  gale  began  to 
blow, 

And  with  the  crash  of  thunder  the  billows  broke  below. 


THE   CAPTIVE'S   LAMENT  137 

"  The  fire  with  which  my  bosom  burns,  alas !  thy  coolest  breeze 
Can  never  slake,  nor  can  its  rage  thy  coolest  wave  appease ; 
The  earth  can  bring  no  solace  to  the  ardor  of  my  pain, 
And  the  whole  ocean  waters  were  poured  on  it  in  vain. 
For  it  is  like  the  blazing  sun  that  sinks  in  ocean's  bed, 
And  yet,  with  ardor  all  unquenched,  next  morning  rears  its 

head. 
Thus  from  the  sea  my  suffering's  flame  has  driven  me  once 

more, 
And  here  I  land,  without  a  hope,  upon  this  arid  shore." 

And  now,  like  furies,  from  the  east  the  gale  began  to 

blow, 
And  with  the  crash  of  thunder  the  billows  broke  below. 

Oh,  call  me  not,  oh,  call  me  not,  thou  voice  of  other  years, 
The  fire  that  flames  within  my  heart  has  dried  the  spring  of 

tears. 
And,  while  my  eyes  might  well  pour  forth  those  bitter  drops 

of  pain, 
The  drought  of  self-consuming  grief  has  quenched  the  healing 

rain. 

Here,  let  me  cry  aloud  for  her,  whom  once  I  called  mine  own, 
For  well  I  wot  that  loving  maid  for  me  has  made  her  moan. 
Tis  for  her  sake  my  flight  I  urge  across  the  sea  and  land, 
And  now  'twixt  shore  and  ocean's  roar  I  take  my  final  stand." 
And  now,  like  furies,  from  the  east  the  gale  began  to 

blow, 
And  with  the  crash  of  thunder  the  billows  broke  below. 

Then  stooping  to  the  earth  he  grasped  the  soil  with  eager 

hand, 

He  kissed  it,  and  with  water  he  mixed  the  thirsty  sand. 
"  O  thou,"  he  said,  "  poor  soil  and  stream,  in  the  Creator's 

plan 

Art  the  end  and  the  beginning  of  all  that  makes  us  man ! 
From  thee  rise  myriad  passions,  that  stir  the  human  breast, 
To  thee  at  last,  when  all  is  o'er,  they  sink  to  find  their  rest. 
Thou,  Earth,  hast  been  my  mother,  and  when  these  pangs  are 

o'er, 


138  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Thou  shalt  become  my  prison-house  whence  I  can  pass  no 
more." 

And  now,  like  furies,  from  the  east  the  gale  began  to 

blow, 
And  with  the  crash  of  thunder  the  billows  broke  below. 

And  now  he  saw  the  warring  winds  that  swept  across  the  bay 

Had  struck  the  battered  shallop  and  carried  it  away. 

"  O  piteous  heaven,"  he  cried  aloud,  "  my  hopes  are  like  yon 

bark: 

Scattered  upon  the  storm  they  lie  and  never  reach  their  mark." 
And  suddenly  from  cloudy  heavens  came  down  the  darkling 

night 

And  in  his  melancholy  mood  the  captive  left  the  height. 
He  gained  his  boat,  with  trembling  hand  he  seized  the  laboring 

oar 

And  turning  to  the  foaming  wave  he  left  his  native  shore. 
"  Ah,  well  I  wot  on  ocean's  breast  when  loud  the  tempest  blows 
Will  rest  be  found  when  solid  ground  denies  the  heart  repose. 
Now  let  the  hostile  sea  perceive  no  power  of  hers  I  dread, 
But  rather  ask  her  vengeance  may  fall  upon  my  head." 
Into  the  night  the  shallop  turned,  while  floated  far  behind 
The  captive's  lamentation  like  a  streamer  on  the  wind. 

And  now,  like  furies,  from  the  east  the  gale  began  to 

blow, 
And  with  the  crash  of  thunder  the  billows  broke  below. 


STRIKE  SAIL! 

A  Turkish  bark  was  on  the  sea,  the  sunny  sea  of  Spain, 
In  sight  of  cliffs  that  Hercules  made  boundaries  of  the  main ; 
And  one,  Celimo's  captive  slave,  as  fierce  the  billows  grew, 
Was  listening  as  the  ship-master  this  order  gave  the  crew : 
"  Strike  sail !   Strike  sail !  The  furious  gale 
Is  rising  fast !   Strike  sail !  " 

Fierce  fell  on  them  the  opposing  winds,  the  ship  was  helpless 

driven ; 
And  with  the  ocean's  flood  were  blent  the  thunder-drops  of 

heaven. 


THE   CAPTIVE'S   ESCAPE 


'39 


And  as  the  inky  clouds  were  rent,  the  fiery  lightning  flared, 
And  'mid  the  terror-stricken  crew  one  voice  alone  was  heard : 
"  Strike  sail !   Strike  sail !  The  furious  gale 
Is  rising  fast !   Strike  sail !  " 

And  one  there  sat  upon  the  deck,  in  captive  misery, 

Whose  tears  ran  mingling  with  the  flood,  the  flood  of  sky  and 

sea. 

Lost  in  the  tempest  of  his  thoughts,  he  fondly  breathed  a  prayer, 
Whose  mournful  words  were  echoed  by  the  mount  of  his  de- 
spair : 

"  Strike  sail !   Strike  sail !  The  furious  gale 
Is  rising  fast !   Strike  sail !  " 

"  If  I  am  captive  and  a  slave,  the  time  shall  come  when  God 
Will  bring  me  freed,  to  tread  once  more  my  own,  my  native 

sod! 

Then  all  my  ancient  glory  shall  return  to  me  for  aye. 
Till  then,  my  soul,  be  patient  and  wait  that  happy  day ! " 
"  Strike  sail !   Strike  sail !   The  furious  gale 
Is  rising  fast !   Strike  sail !  " 

THE  CAPTIVE'S  ESCAPE 

The  fair  Florida  sat  at  ease,  upon  a  summer's  day, 
Within  a  garden  green  and  fair  that  by  the  river  lay, 
And  gayly  asked  that  he  her  spouse  would  tell  his  darling 

wife 

The  cause  of  his  captivity,  the  history  of  his  life. 
"  Now  tell  me,  dearest  husband,  I  pray  thee  tell  me  true, 
Who  were  thy  parents,  and  what  land  thy  birth  and  nurture 

knew? 

And  wherefore  did  they  take  thee  a  captive  from  that  place, 
And  who  has  given  thee  liberty,  thy  homeward  path  to  trace  ?  " 
"  Yes,  I  will  tell  thee,  gentle  wife,  and  I  will  tell  thee  true, 
For  tender  is  the  light  I  see  within  thine  eyes  of  blue. 
In  Ronda  did  my  father  raise  his  castle  on  the  height; 
And  'twas  in  Antequera  first  my  mother  saw  the  light. 
Me,  to  this  dark  captivity,  the  dastard  Moors  ensnared, 
Just  as  the  peace  had  ended  and  war  was  not  declared. 


I4o  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

They  took  me  off  in  fetters,  to  barter  me  for  gold, 
Velez-de-la-Gomera  was  the  town  where  I  was  sold. 
Seven  weary  days,  and  for  each  day  a  long  and  weary  night, 
They  set  me  on  the  auction-block,  before  the  people's  sight. 
Yet  not  a  Moorish  gentleman  and  not  a  Moorish  wife 
A  maravedi  offered  for  the  mournful  captive's  life. 
At  last  there  came  a  Moorish  dog,  in  rich  attire,  and  gave 
A  thousand  golden  pieces  to  have  me  for  his  slave. 
He  led  me  to  his  lofty  house,  and  bade  me  there  remain, 
Mocked  by  his  lowest  underlings,  and  loaded  with  a  chain. 
Ah !  vile  the  life  he  led  me,  and  deep  revenge  I  swore ; 
Ah !  black  the  life  he  gave  me,  and  hard  the  toils  I  bore ! 
By  day  I  beat  the  piled-up  hemp  cut  from  the  vega  plain ; 
By  night,  within  the  darkened  mill,  I  ground  for  him  the  grain. 
And  though  the  very  corn  I  ground,  I  longed  to  take  for  meat, 
He  placed  a  bridle  on  my  mouth  that  I  should  nothing  eat ! 
Therefore,  it  pleased  the  God  who  rules  the  heavens,  the  land, 

the  sea, 

That  the  mistress  of  that  mighty  house  looked  tenderly  on  me. 
And  when  the  Moor  a-hunting  went,  one  happy  autumn  day, 
She  came  into  my  prison-house  and  took  my  chains  away ; 
She  bade  me  sit  upon  her  lap,  I  answered  with  delight ; 
Ah,  many  a  gallant  present  she  made  to  me  that  night ! 
She  bathed  me  and  she  washed  my  wounds,  and  garments 

fresh  she  gave, 

Far  brighter  than  were  fit  to  deck  the  body  of  a  slave ; 
And  love's  delight  we  shared  that  night,  for  I  grew  gay  and 

bold! 

And  in  the  morn  she  gave  to  me  a  hundred  crowns  of  gold. 
She  oped  the  gates,  she  bade  me,  with  smiles,  once  more  be 

free; 
We  fled,  for  fear  that  Moorish  hound  would  slay  both  her  and 

me. 
And  so  it  pleased  the  God  who  rules  the  earth  and  heavens 

above, 

To  prove  his  deep  compassion  and  the  greatness  of  his  love ; 
And  thus  my  sad  captivity,  my  days  of  wandering,  o'er, 
Florida,  in  thy  loving  arms  I  nestle  as  of  yore ! 


THE   SPANIARD   OF   ORAN  141 


THE  SPANIARD  OF  ORAN 

Right  gallant  was  that  gentleman,  the  warlike  knight  of  Spain, 
Who  served  the  King  in  Oran,  with  sword  and  lances  twain ; 
But,  with  his  heart's  devotion  and  passion's  ardent  fire, 
He  served  a  gentle  Afric  maid  of  high  and  noble  sire. 
And  she  was  fair  as  noble,  and  well  could  she  requite 
The  devotion  of  a  lover  and  the  courage  of  a  knight. 
And  when  one  summer  evening  they  paid  their  vows  again, 
They  heard  the  alarum  ring  to  arms  across  the  darkling  plain ; 
For  the  foes'  approach  had  roused  the  watch  and  caused  the 

war-like  sound. 

The  silver  moon  had  shed  its  ray  upon  their  targes  round, 
The  targes  shot  the  message  to  the  silent  watch-towers  by, 
And  watch-towers  sent  their  tidings  by  flames  that  lit  the  sky ; 
And  the  fires  had  called  the  bells  on  high  to  ring  their  clear 

alarms — 

That  tocsin  roused  the  lover  locked  in,  the  lady's  arms. 
Ah,  sorely  felt  he  in  his  heart  the  spur  of  honor  prick, 
But  love's  appeal  that  held  him,  it  pierced  him  to  the  quick. 
'Twas  cowardice  to  dally  and  shrink  that  foe  to  face, 
But,  ah,  it  was  ingratitude  to  leave  her  in  that  case. 
And  hanging  round  her  lover's  neck,  she  saw  that  he  turned 

pale, 
And  seized  his  sword  and  cast  one  glance  upon  his  coat  of 

mail; 
And,  with  a  burst  of  sighs  and  tears  she  bowed  her  beauteous 

head; 
"  Oh,  rise,  my  lord,  gird  on  thy  arms,  and  join  the  fray/'  she 

said; 

Oh,  let  my  tears  this  couch  bedew ;  this  couch  of  joy  shall  be 
As  dolorous  as  the  dreary  field  of  battle,  without  thee ! 
Arm,  arm  thyself  and  go  to  war!  Hark,  hark!  the  foes  ap- 
proach. 

Thy  general  waits;  oh,  let  him  not. thy  knightliness  reproach! 
Oh,  direly  will  he  visit  thee  for  cowardice  to-day, 
For  dire  the  crime  in  an>  clime  of  soldiers  who  betray. 
Well  canst  thou  glide  unnoticed  to  the  camp,  without  thy 

sword ; 


14* 


MOORISH    LITERATURE 


Wilt  thou  not  heed  my  tears,  my  sighs — begone  without  a 

word! 

Thy  bosom  is  not  made  of  flesh,  for,  ah !  thou  canst  not.  feel, 
Thou  hast  no  need  of  arms  in  fight,  for  it  is  hard  as  steel." 
The  Spaniard  gazed  upon  her,  his  heart  was  full  of  pride ; 
She  held  him  fast  and  even  her  words  retained  him  at  her  side. 
"  Lady,"  he  said,  and  kissed  her,  "  spite  of  thy  words  unwise, 
Thou  art  as  sweet  as  ever  in  thy  lover's  faithful  eyes. 
And  since  to  love  and  honor  this  night  thou  hast  appealed, 
I  take  my  arms  and  go,  for  right  it  is  to  thee  I  yield ; 
I  go  into  the  battle  and  my  body  seeks  the  fight, 
But  my  soul  behind  me  lingers  in  thy  bosom  of  delight ; 
Oh,  grant  me,  Lord  and  Master,  to  seek  the  camp  below, 
Oh,  let  me  take  the  name  to-night  and  I  will  cheerful  go, 
Bearing  the  sword,  the  lance,  and  coat  of  mail  against  the  foe !  " 


THE  ABDUCTION. 

Photogravure  from  the  original  painting  by  U.  Cbeca,  exhibited  in  tbe 
Paris  Salon  of 


MOORISH    ROMANCES 


[Metrical  Translation  by  J.  Lockhart] 


MOORISH   ROMANCES 


THE  BULL-FIGHT  OF  GAZUL 

[Gazul  is  the  name  of  one  of  the  Moorish  heroes  who  figure  in  the  "  His- 
torta  de  las  Guerras  Civiles  de  Granada,"  The  following  ballad  is 
one .  of  very  many  in  which  the  dexterity  of  the  Moorish  cavaliers 
in  the  bull-fight  is  described.  The  reader  will  observe  that  the  shape, 
activity,  and  resolution  of  the  unhappy  animal  destined  to  furnish  the 
amusement  of  the  spectators,  are  enlarged  upon,  just  as  the  qualities 
of  a  modern  race-horse  might  be  among  ourselves  :  nor  is  the  bull 
without  his  name.  The  day  of  the  Baptist  is  a  festival  among  the 
Mussulmans,  as  well  as  among  Christians.] 

KING  ALMANZOR  of  Granada,  he  hath  bid  the  trumpet 
sound, 
He  hath  summonded  all  the  Moorish  lords,  from  the 

hills  and  plains  around ; 
From  vega  and  sierra,  from  Betis  and  Xenil, 
They  have  come  with  helm  and  cuirass  of  gold  and  twisted 
steel. 

'Tis  the  holy  Baptist's  feast  they  hold  in  royalty  and  state, 
And  they  have  closed  the  spacious  lists  beside  the  Alhambra's 

gate; 

In  gowns  of  black  and  silver  laced,  within  the  tented  ring, 
Eight  Moors  to  fight  the  bull  are  placed  in  presence  of  the  King. 

Eight  Moorish  lords  of  valor  tried,  with  stalwart  arm  and  true, 
The  onset  of  the  beasts  abide,  as  they  come  rushing  through ; 
The  deeds  they've  done,  the  spoils  they've  won,  fill  all  with 

hope  and  trust, 
Yet  ere  high  in  heaven  appears  the  sun  they  all  have  bit  the 

dust. 

10  145 


146  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Then  sounds  the  trumpet  clearly,  then  clangs  the  loud  tambour, 
Make  room,  make  room  for  Gazul — throw  wide,  throw  wide 

the  door; 
Blow,  blow  the  trumpet  clearer  still,  more  loudly  strike  the 

drum, 
The  Alcayde  of  Algava  to  fight  the  bull  doth  come. 

And  first  before  the  King  he  passed,  with  reverence  stooping 

low, 
And  next  he  bowed  him  to  the  Queen,  and  the  Infantas  all 

a-row ; 

Then  to  his  lady's  grace  he  turned,  and  she  to  him  did  throw 
A  scarf  from  out  her  balcony  was  whiter  than  the  snow. 

With  the  life-blood  of  the  slaughtered  lords  all  slippery  is  the 

sand, 

Yet  proudly  in  the  centre  hath  Gazul  ta'en  his  stand ; 
And  ladies  look  with  heaving  breast,  and  lords  with  anxious 

eye, 
But  firmly  he  extends  his  arm — his  look  is  calm  and  high. 

Three  bulls  against  the  knight  are  loosed,  and  two  come  roaring 

on, 

He  rises  high  in  stirrup,  forth  stretching  his  rejon ; 
Each  furious  beast  upon  the  breast  he  deals  him  such  a  blow 
He  blindly  totters  and  gives  back,  across  the  sand  to  go. 

"  Turn,  Gazul,  turn,"  the  people  cry — the  third  comes  up  be- 
hind, 

Low  to  the  sand  his  head  holds  he,  his  nostrils  snuff  the  wind ; 

The  mountaineers  that  lead  the  steers,  without  stand  whispering 
low, 

"  Now  thinks  this  proud  alcayde  to  stun  Harpado  so  ?  " 

From  Guadiana  comes  he  not,  he  comes  not  from  Xenil, 
From  Gaudalarif  of  the  plain,  or  Barves  of  the  hill ; 
But  where  from  out  the  forest  burst  Xarama's  waters  clear, 
Beneath  the  oak-trees  was  he  nursed,  this  proud  and  stately 
steer. 


THE  BULL-FIGHT  OF   GAZUL  147 

Dark  is  his  hide  on  either  side,  but  the  blood  within  doth  boil, 
And  the  dun  hide  glows,  as  if  on  fire,  as  he  paws  to  the  turmoil. 
His  eyes  are  jet,  and  they  are  set  in  crystal  rings  of  snow ; 
But  now  they  stare  with  one  red  glare  of  brass  upon  the  foe. 

Upon  the  forehead  of  the  bull  the  horns  stand  close  and  near, 
From  out  the  broad  and  wrinkled  skull,  like  daggers  they  ap- 
pear; 

His  neck  is  massy,  like  the  trunk  of  some  old  knotted  tree, 
Whereon  the  monster's  shaggy  mane,  like  billows  curled,  ye 
see. 

His  legs  are  short,  his  hams  are  thick,  his  hoofs  are  black  as 

night, 

Like  a  strong  flail  he  holds  his  tail  in  fierceness  of  his  might ; 
Like  something  molten  out  of  iron,  or  hewn  from  forth  the  rock, 
Harpado  of  Xarama  stands,  to  bide  the  alcayde's  shock. 

Now  stops  the  drum — close,  close  they  come — thrice  meet,  and 

thrice  give  back ; 
The  white  foam  of  Harpado  lies  on  the  charger's  breast  of 

black — 

The  white  foam  of  the  charger  on  Harpado's  front  of  dun — 
Once  more  advance  upon  his  lance — once  more,  thou  fearless 

one! 

Once  more,  once  more; — in  dust  and  gore  to  ruin  must  thou 

reel — 

In  vain,  in  vain  thou  tearest  the  sand  with  furious  heel — 
In  vain,  in  vain,  thou  noble  beast,  I  see,  I  see  thee  stagger, 
Now  keen  and  cold  thy  neck  must  hold  the  stern  alcayde's 

dagger ! 

They  have  slipped  a  noose  around  his  feet,  six  horses  are 

brought  in, 

And  away  they  drag  Harpado  with  a  loud  and  joyful  din. 
Now  stoop  thee,  lady,  from  thy  stand,  and  the  ring  of  price 

bestow 
Upon  Gazul  of  Algava,  that  hath  laid  Harpado  low. 


I48  MOORISH    LITERATURE 


THE  ZEGRI'S  BRIDE 

[The  reader  cannot  need  to  be  reminded  of  the  fatal  effects  which  were 
produced  by  the  feuds  subsisting  between  the  two  great  families,  or 
rather  races,  of  the  Zegris  and  the  Abencerrages  of  Granada.  The 
following  ballad  is  also  from  the  "  Guerras  Ctvzles. "] 

Of  all  the  blood  of  Zegri,  the  chief  is  Lisaro, 
To  wield  rejon  like  him  is  none,  or  javelin  to  throw; 
From  the  place  of  his  dominion,  he  ere  the  dawn  doth  go, 
From  Alcala  de  Henares,  he  rides  in  weed  of  woe. 

He  rides  not  now  as  he  was  wont,  when  ye  have  seen  him  speed 

To  the  field  of  gay  Toledo,  to  fling  his  lusty  reed ; 

No  gambeson  of  silk  is  on,  nor  rich  embroidery 

Of  gold-wrought  robe  or  turban — nor  jewelled  tahali. 

No  amethyst  nor  garnet  is  shining  on  his  brow, 

No  crimson  sleeve,  which  damsels  weave  at  Tunis,  decks  him 

now; 
The  belt  is  black,  the  hilt  is  dim,  but  the  sheathed  blade  is 

bright; 
They  have  housened  his  barb  in  a  murky  garb,  but  yet  her  hoofs 

are  light. 

Four  horsemen  good,  of  the  Zegri  blood,  with  Lisaro  go  out ; 
No  flashing  spear  may  tell  them  near,  but  yet  their  shafts  are 

stout ; 

In  darkness  and  in  swiftness  rides  every  armed  knight — 
The  foam  on  the  rein  ye  may  see  it  plain,  but  nothing  else  is 

white. 

Young  Lisaro,  as  on  they  go,  his  bonnet  doffeth  he, 
Between  its  folds  a  sprig  it  holds  of  a  dark  and  glossy  tree ; 
That  sprig  of  bay,  were  it  away,  right  heavy  heart  had  he — 
Fair  Zayda  to  her  Zegri  gave  that  token  privily. 

And  ever  as  they  rode,  he  looked  upon  his  lady's  boon. 
"  God  knows,"   quoth  he,   "  what   fate   may   be — I   may  be 
slaughtered  soon; 


THE   BRIDAL   OF   ANDALLA  149 

Thou  still  art  mine,  though  scarce  the  sign  of  hope  that  bloomed 

whilere, 
But  in  my  grave  I  yet  shall  have  my  Zayda's  token  dear." 

Young  Lisaro  was  musing  so,  when  onward  on  the  path, 
He  well  could  see  them  riding  slow;  then  pricked  he  in  his 

wrath. 

The  raging  sire,  the  kinsmen  of  Zayda's  hateful  house, 
Fought  well  that  day,  yet  in  the  fray  the  Zegri  won  his  spouse. 

THE  BRIDAL  OF  ANDALLA 

[The  Following  ballad  has  been  often  imitated  by  modern  poets,  both  in 
Spain  and  in  Germany : 

"  Pan  tt  a  las  rejas  azules,  dexa  la  manga  que  labras, 
Melancholic  a  Xarifa,  veras  al  galan  Andalla,"  etc.] 

"  Rise  up,  rise  up,  Xarifa,  lay  the  golden  cushion  down ; 
Rise  up,  come  to  the  window,  and  gaze  with  all  the  town. 
From  gay  guitar  and  violin  the  silver  notes  are  flowing, 
And  the  lovely  lute  doth  speak  between  the  trumpet's  lordly 

blowing, 

And  banners  bright  from  lattice  light  are  waving  everywhere, 
And  the  tall,  tall  plume  of  our  cousin's  bridegroom  floats 

proudly  in  the  air: 

Rise  up,  rise  up,  Xarifa,  lay  the  golden  cushion  down ; 

Rise  up,  come  to  the  window,  and  gaze  with  all  the  town. 

"  Arise,  arise,  Xarifa,  I  see  Andalla's  face, 
He  bends  him  to  the  people  with  a  calm  and  princely  grace, 
Through  all  the  land  of  Xeres  and  banks  of  Guadalquivir 
Rode  forth  bridegroom  so  brave  as  he,  so  brave  and  lovely 

never. 
Yon  tall  plume  waving  o'er  his  brow  of  purple  mixed  with 

white, 
I  guess  'twas  wreathed  by  Zara,  whom  he  will  wed  to-night ; 

Rise  up,  rise  up,  Xarifa,  lay  the  golden  cushion  down ; 

Rise  up,  come  to  the  window,  and  gaze  with  all  the  town. 

"  What  aileth  thee,  Xarifa,  what  makes  thine  eyes  look  down  ? 
Why  stay  ye  from  the  window  far,  nor  gaze  with  all  the  town  ? 


I  So  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

I've  heard  you  say  on  many  a  day,  and  sure  you  said  the  truth, 
Andalla  rides  without  a  peer,  among  all  Granada's  youth. 
Without  a  peer  he  rideth,  and  yon  milk-white  horse  doth  go 
Beneath  his  stately  master,  with  a  stately  step  and  slow ; 

Then  rise,  oh,  rise,  Xarifa,  lay  the  golden  cushion  down ; 

Unseen  here  through  the  lattice,  you  may  gaze  with  all 
the  town." 

The  Zegri  lady  rose  not,  nor  laid  her  cushion  down, 

Nor  came  she  to  the  window  to  gaze  with  all  the  town ; 

But  though  her  eyes  dwelt  on  her  knee,  in  vain  her  fingers 

strove, 
And  though  her  needle  pressed  the  silk,  no  flower  Xarifa 

wove; 
One  bonny  rose-bud  she  had  traced,  before  the  noise  drew 

nigh— 
That  bonny  bud  a  tear  effaced,  slow  drooping  from  her  eye. 

"  No — no,"  she  sighs — "  bid  me  not  rise,  nor  lay  my 
cushion  down, 

To  gaze  upon  Andalla  with  all  the  gazing  town." 

"  Why  rise  ye  not,  Xarifa,  nor  lay  your  cushion  down  ? 
Why  gaze  ye  not,  Xarifa,  with  all  the  gazing  town? 
Hear,  hear  the  trumpet  how  it  swells,  and  how  the  people  cry ! 
He  stops  at  Zara's  palace  gate — why  sit  ye  still — oh,  why  ?  " 
"  At  Zara's  gate  stops  Zara's  mate ;  in  him  shall  I  discover 
The  dark-eyed  youth  pledged  me  his  truth  with  tears,  and  was 
my  lover? 

I  will  not  rise,  with  dreary  eyes,  nor  lay  my  cushion  down, 
To  gaze  on  false  Andalla  with  all  the  gazing  town !  " 


ZARA'S  EAR-RINGS 

"  My  ear-rings !  my  ear-rings !  they've  dropped  into  the  well, 
And  what  to  say  to  Mu<;a,  I  cannot,  cannot  tell." 
'Twas  thus,  Granada's,  fountain  by,  spoke  Albuharez'  daughter, 
"  The  well  is  deep,  far  down  they  lie,  beneath  the  cold  blue 

water — 

To  me  did  Mu£a  give  them,  when  he  spake  his  sad  farewell, 
And  what  to  say  when  he  comes  back,  alas !  I  cannot  tell. 


ZARA'S  EAR-RINGS  151 

"  My  ear-rings !  my  ear-rings !  they  were  pearls  in  silver  set, 
That  when  my  Moor  was  far  away,  I  ne'er  should  him  forget, 
That  I  ne'er  to  other  tongue  should  list,  nor  smile  on  other's 

tale, 
But  remember  he  my  lips  had  kissed,  pure  as  those  ear-rings 

pale — 
When  he  comes  back,  and  hears  that  I  have  dropped  them  in 

the  well, 
Oh,  what  will  Muc,a  think  of  me,  I  cannot,  cannot  tell. 

"  My  ear-rings !  my  ear-rings !  he'll  say  they  should  have  been, 
Not  of  pearl  and  of  silver,  but  of  gold  and  glittering  sheen, 
Of  jasper  and  of  onyx,  and  of  diamond  shining  clear, 
Changing  to  the  changing  light,  with  radiance  insincere — 
That  changeful  mind  unchanging  gems  are  not  befitting  well — 
Thus  will  he  think — and  what  to  say,  alas !  I  cannot  tell. 

"  He'll  think  when  I  to  market  went,  I  loitered  by  the  way ; 
He'll  think  a  willing  ear  I  lent  to  all  the  lads  might  say ; 
He'll  think  some  other  lover's  hand,  among  my  tresses  noosed, 
From  the  ears  where  he  had  placed  them,  my  rings  of  pearl  un- 
loosed ; 

He'll  think,  when  I  was  sporting  so  beside  this  marble  well, 
My  pearls  fell  in, — and  what  to  say,  alas !  I  cannot  tell. 

"  He'll  say,  I  am  a  woman,  and  we  are  all  the  same ; 
He'll  say  I  loved  when  he  was  here  to  whisper  of  his  flame — 
But  when  he  went  to  Tunis  my  virgin  troth  had  broken, 
And  thought  no  more  of  Muc,a,  and  cared  not  for  his  token. 
My  ear-rings!  my  ear-rings!  O  luckless,  luckless  well, 
For  what  to  say  to  Muc,a,  alas !  I  cannot  tell. 

"  I'll  tell  the  truth  to  Muqa,  and  I  hope  he  will  believe — 
That  I  thought  of  him  at  morning,  and  thought  of  him  at  eve ; 
That,  musing  on  my  lover,  when  down  the  sun  was  gone, 
His  ear-rings  in  my  hand  I  held,  by  the  fountain  all  alone ; 
And  that  my  mind  was  o'er  the  sea,  when  from  my  hand  they 

fell, 
And  that  deep  his  love  lies  in  my  heart,  as  they  lie  in  the  well." 


jS2  MOORISH    LITERATURE 


THE  LAMENTATION  FOR  CELIN 

At  the  gate  of  old  Granada,  when  all  its  bolts  are  barred, 
At  twilight  at  the  Vega  gate  there  is  a  trampling  heard ; 
There  is  a  trampling  heard,  as  of  horses  treading  slow, 
And  a  weeping  voice  of  women,  and  a  heavy  sound  of  woe. 
"  What  tower  is  fallen,  what  star  is  set,  what  chief  come  these 

bewailing  ?  " 
"  A  tower  is  fallen,  a  star  is  set.    Alas !  alas  for  Celin !  " 

Three  times  they  knock,  three  times  they  cry,  and  wide  the 

doors  they  throw ; 

Dejectedly  they  enter,  and  mournfully  they  go ; 
In  gloomy  lines  they  mustering  stand  beneath  the  hollow  porch, 
Each  horseman  grasping  in  his  hand  a  black  and  flaming  torch ; 
Wet  is  each  eye  as  they  go  by,  and  all  around  is  wailing, 
For  all  have  heard  the  misery.    "  Alas !  alas  for  Celin !  " — 

Him  yesterday  a  Moor  did  slay,  of  Bencerraje's  blood, 
'Twas  at  the  solemn  jousting,  around  the  nobles  stood ; 
The  nobles  of  the  land  were  by,  and  ladies  bright  and  fair 
Looked  from  their  latticed  windows,  the  haughty  sight  to  share ; 
But  now  the  nobles  all  lament,  the  ladies  are  bewailing, 
For  he  was  Granada's  darling  knight.    "  Alas !  alas  for  Celin !  " 

Before  him  ride  his  vassals,  in  order  two  by  two, 
With  ashes  on  their  turbans  spread,  most  pitiful  to  view ; 
Behind  him  his  four  sisters,  each  wrapped  in  sable  veil, 
Between  the  tambour's  dismal  strokes  take  up  their  doleful 

tale; 

When  stops  the  muffled  drum,  ye  hear  their  brotherless  be- 
wailing, 
And  all  the  people,  far  and  near,  cry — "  Alas !  alas  for  Celin !  " 

Oh!  lovely  lies  he  on  the  bier,  above  the  purple  pall, 
The  flower  of  all  Granada's  youth,  the  loveliest  of  them  all ; 
His  dark,  dark  eyes  are  closed,  his  rosy  lip  is  pale, 
The  crust  of  blood  lies  black  and  dim  upon  his  burnished  mail, 
And  evermore  the  hoarse  tambour  breaks  in  upon  their  wailing, 
Its  sound  is  like  no  earthly  sound — "  Alas !  alas  for  Celin !  " 


THE   LAMENTATION   FOR   CELIN 


153 


The  Moorish  maid  at  the  lattice  stands,  the  Moor  stands  at  his 

door, 

One  maid  is  wringing  of  her  hands,  and  one  is  weeping  sore — 
Down  to  the  dust  men  bow  their  heads,  and  ashes  black  they 

strew 

Upon  their  broidered  garments  of  crimson,  green,  and  blue — 
Before  each  gate  the  bier  stands  still,  then  bursts  the  loud  be- 
wailing, 
From  door  and  lattice,  high  and  low — "  Alas !  alas  for  Celin !  " 

An  old,  old  woman  cometh  forth,  when  she  hears  the  people 

cry; 

Her  hair  is  white  as  silver,  like  horn  her  glazed  eye. 
Twas  she  that  nursed  him  at  her  breast,  that  nursed  him  long 

ago; 
She  knows  not  whom  they  all  lament,  but  soon  she  well  shall 

know. 
With  one  deep  shriek  she  thro'  doth  break,  when  her  ears  receive 

their  wailing — 
"  Let  me  kiss  my  Celin  ere  I  die — Alas !  alas  for  Celin !  " 


THE    STORY     OF     SIDI     BRAHIM 
OF     MASSAT 


[Translated  by  Rene  Busset  and  Chauncey  C.  Starkweather] 


THE  STORY  OF  SIDI   BRAHIM  OF  MASSAT 

I 

THE  Taleb  Sidi  Brahim,  son  of  Amhammed  of  Massat, 
in  the  province  of  Sous,  tells  the  following  story  about 
himself :  When  he  was  still  a  child  at  his  father's  house 
he  went  to  the  mosque  to  read  with  a  taleb.  He  studied  with 
him  for  twelve  and  a  half  years.  His  father  gave  him  bread 
and  kouskous,  and  he  ate  eight  deniers'  worth  a  day.  I  will 
make  known  the  country  of  Massat.  It  contains  seventeen 
towns.  In  the  middle  of  these  is  a  market.  The  Jews  have  a 
refuge  in  the  village  of  the  chief  named  Mobarek-ben-Mahomet. 
He  lives  with  a  sheik  called  Brahim-Mahomet-Abon-Djemaa. 
These  two  chiefs  levy  a  tax  on  the  Jews.  They  receive  from 
them  four  ounces  per  family  at  the  beginning  of  each  month. 
If  the  festival  of  the  Mussulmans  coincides  with  the  Sabbath  of 
the  Jews,  the  latter  pay  to  each  of  the  chiefs  one  ounce  for  a 
Jew  or  a  Jewess,  boy  or  girl,  little  or  big.  The  following  are 
the  details  of  the  population  of  Massat.  It  includes  1,700  men. 
As  to  the  women,  little  boys  or  girls,  only  the  Lord  knows 
their  number.  There  are  1,250  houses.  The  horses  amount 
to  1 80.  They  ride  them  and  make  them  work  like  oxen  and 
mules.  They  also  fight  on  horseback.  The  country  has  trees, 
vines,  figs,  cacti,  dates,  oranges,  lemons,  apples,  apricots, 
melons,  and  olives.  There  is  a  river  which  flows  from  there 
to  the  sea.  The  commerce  is  considerable.  There  are  Jews 
and  Mussulmans.  The  number  of  books  in  the  mosque  is  un- 
known, unless  it  be  by  God.  The  teachers  are  numerous  as  well 
as  the  pilgrims,  the  descendants  of  Mahomet,  and  the  saints. 
May  God  aid  us  with  his  blessing ! 

We  will  now  speak  of  the  tribute  which  the  people  of  Massat 
pay  yearly  to  Prince  Mouley-Abd-Er-Rahman.  Up  to  our 
days  they  had,  for  fifty-one  years,  given  him  5,000  livres  of 
silver.  The  prince  said  to  them,  "  You  must  pay  1,000  livres 


I58  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

more."  They  answered,  "  By  the  Lord,  we  will  only  give  you 
as  before,  5,000  livres,  a  slave,  a  servant,  and  a  horse."  The 
kaid  Abd-el-Cadik,  who  was  caliph  of  the  King  of  Taroundant, 
hastened  to  send  against  them  forty-five  horsemen,  and  said 
to  them :  "  You  must  give  me  six  thousand  livres  of  silver, 
and  a  slave,  a  servant,  and  a  horse  in  addition."  They  re- 
fused and  drove  away  the  cavalry,  saying,  "  Return  to  the  kaid 
who  sent  you  against  us,  and  say  to  him  that  we  will  not  in- 
crease our  tribute  as  he  demands."  The  horsemen  returned 
and  arrived  at  Taroundant.  The  kaid  asked  him,  "  Tell  me 
what  happened  to  you  with  the  people  of  Massat."  They 
answered  him,  "  They  read  in  their  assembly  the  letter  that 
you  sent  them,  and  told  us  to  go  back,  and  that  they  would 
pay  no  larger  sum."  The  kaid  called  a  council  and  asked  what 
had  better  be  done  with  the  people  of  Massat.  The  sheiks  of 
the  Achtouks  answered,  "  Make  complaints  to  the  Sultan  at 
Morocco."  He  wrote  to  the  Sultan,  asking  him  to  send  an 
army  to  destroy  the  rebels  of  Massat.  The  Sultan  sent  a  force 
of  3,500  horsemen,  to  whom  he  gave  for  chief,  Ettaib  Eddin, 
who  rejoined  them  near  the  khalifah  of  the  King  at  Taroundant. 
When  the  royal  troops  arrived,  the  fourth  night,  he  started 
and  led  them  to  the  taleb  Mahomet  of  the  Aggars,  in  the  midst 
of  the  country  of  the  Achtouks.  The  taleb  said  to  him: 
"  Return  to  Taroundant.  Let  your  lieutenant  go  with  them 
and  we  will  talk  about  it."  The  kaid  answered,  "  Very  well." 
The  chiefs  of  the  Achtouks  mounted  their  horses  and  led  the 
army  toward  the  country  of  Kama,  in  the  mountain  which  is 
between  the  Achtouks  and  Ida-Oultit.  The  troops  hastened 
toward  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  near  the  river  Alras,  in  the 
country  of  Takourt.  The  mountaineers  marched  against  them 
and  fought  for  three  days  until  the  holy  men  and  the  sherifs 
arrived  and  quieted  them.  The  mountaineers  came  down 
toward  the  army.  The  kaid  betrayed  them.  He  seized  four- 
teen of  their  leaders  and  sent  them  to  the  kaid  at  Taroundant. 
He  cut  off  their  heads  and  hung  them  up  at  the  gate.  As  to 
the  army  that  was  above  the  river  Alras,  it  attacked  the  people 
of  Massat  on  account  of  the  tribute  demanded  by  the  kaid.  It 
made  the  onset  with  cavalry,  and  destroyed  the  country.  The 
natives  received  them  with  powder,  and  they  fought  half  a 
day.  The  natives  gained  the  advantage  in  the  fight.  The 


THE   STORY   OF   SIDI   BRAHIM    OF   MASSAT         159 

enemy  abandoned  their  cannons.  The  natives  slew  them  until 
the  Sultan's  troops  retreated.  They  captured  700  horses.  The 
troops  of  the  Sultan  abandoned  their  baggage  except  six  chests 
of  silver.  Many  guns  were  broken  on  that  day,  until  the  flying 
invaders  reached  the  country  of  the  Achtouks.  The  people  of 
Massat  had  for  allies  the  tribes  of  Aglou  and  Tizpit,  who 
equalled  them  in  number.  As  for  the  cannons  abandoned 
the  day  of  the  battle,  the  conquerors  took  two  of  them  to  their 
country.  They  kept  them  until  they  were  repaid  the  6,500 
livres  of  silver,  which  had  been  taken  from  them.  Then  they 
gave  back  the  cannons.  Such  is  the  complete  story  of  that 
which  happened  between  the  tribe  of  Massat,  the  Khalifah 
of  the  King,  and  the  neighboring  tribes. 

II 

Information  about  the  country  of  Tazroualt.  The  Taleb 
Sidi  Brahim,  son  of  Mahomet,  of  Massat  in  Sous,  tells  the 
following :  'He  started  for  the  zaouiah  of  Tazroualt,  to  study 
there  during  seven  months  with  the  taleb  Sidi  Mahomet  Adjeli, 
one  of  the  greatest  lights.  The  number  of  students  was 
seventy-four.  Forty-two  of  these  studied  the  law.  The  others 
read  the  Koran.  None  of  the  students  paid  for  his  living.  It 
was  furnished  by  the  chief  of  the  country,  Hecham.  He  gave 
to  the  zaouiah  mentioned,  six  servants  and  six  slaves  to  cook 
the  food  of  the  students.  The  number  of  the  villages  of  this 
country  is  nine.  The  Kashlah  of  Hecham  is  situated  in  the 
middle  of  the  country.  The  Jewish  quarter  is  at  the  left.  The 
market  is  held  every  day  at  the  entrance  to  the  fort.  This  latter 
is  built  of  stone,  lime,  and  pine  planks  and  beams.  Riches 
abound.  Caravans  go  from  there  to  Timbuctoo,  the  Soudan, 
Sahara,  and  Agadir-Ndouma.  They  go  to  these  countries  to 
buy  ivory,  ostrich  feathers,  slaves,  gold  and  silver.  If  it  hurries, 
a  caravan  consumes  a  whole  year  in  visiting  these  places.  The 
people  of  the  different  countries  buy  from  them  and  give  in 
exchange  other  merchandise,  such  as  linen,  cotton,  silks,  iron, 
steel,  incense,  corals,  cloves,  spikenard,  haberdashery,  pottery, 
glass,  and  everything  that  comes,  as  they  say,  from  the  country 
of  Christians.  When  these  goods  enumerated  above  have  ar- 
rived, the  merchants,  both  Jews  and  Mussulmans,  come  forward 


160  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

and  buy  them  according  to  the  needs  of  their  business.  I  will 
add  here,  with  more  details,  some  words  about  Hecham.  He 
has  twelve  sons,  all  horsemen,  who  have  thirty-six  horses.  As 
for  oxen,  sheep,  and  camels,  God  alone  could  tell  the  figure. 
The  number  of  the  wives  that  Hecham  has  married  is  four  white 
and  six  slaves — the  latter  black.  His  only  son  has  as  many 
white  wives  as  his  father,  but  more  black  ones.  The  men  of 
Tizeroualt  are  of  the  number  of  1,400.  But  for  the  women, 
boys,  and  girls,  God  alone  knows  the  figure.  They  possess  200 
horses,  beside  those  of  Hecham.  There  are  750  houses;  the 
number  of  books  in  the  mosque  is  130 — in  the  Chelha  language. 


Ill 

The  sheik  Sidi  Hammad,  son  of  Mahomet  Mouley  Ben- 
Nacer,  has  written  his  book  in  Amazir.  It  is  entitled  the 
"  Kitab-amazir."  This  work  treats  of  obligations  and  tra- 
ditions of  things  permitted  and  forbidden. 


IV 

There  are  3,500  men  in  the  Aglou  country.  They  have 
2,200  houses  and  960  horses.  This  district  is  on  the  sea-coast 
and  possesses  a  stone-harbor.  There  are  barks  which  are  used 
in  fishing.  The  inhabitants  were  living  in  tranquillity  when 
one  day,  as  they  were  starting  out  to  fish,  a  ship  arrived  off 
shore.  They  fled  in  fear  and  left  it  in  the  sea.  The  ship 
waited  till  midnight.  Then  it  entered  the  port  and  ran  up  a 
red  flag.  It  remained  at  anchor  for  fifteen  days.  The  people 
of  Aglou  assembled  day  and  night,  big  and  little,  even  the 
horsemen  before  it.  No  one  was  missing.  The  chiefs  of  the 
town  wrote  letters  which  they  sent  to  all  the  villages.  They 
sent  one  to  Sidi  Hecham  couched  in  these  words :  "  Come  at 
once.  The  Christians  have  made  an  expedition  against  us,  and 
have  taken  this  port."  Sidi  Hecham  sent  messengers  to  all  the 
provinces  over  which  he  ruled  and  said  in  his  letters :  "  You 
must  accompany  me  to  the  country  of  Aglou,  for  the  Christians 
have  made  an  expedition  against  us."  All  the  neighboring 
tribes  assembled  to  march  against  the  Christians.  When  Sidi 


THE   STORY   OF   SIDI   BRAHIM    OF   MASSAT         161 

Hecham  had  joined  them  he  said,  "  You  must  raise  a  red  flag 
like  theirs." 

They  raised  it.  When  it  was  seen  by  those  on  the  ship,  a 
sailor  came  ashore  in  a  small  boat  and  approached  the  Mussul- 
mans there  assembled. 

"  Let  no  one  insult  the  Christian,"  said  Sidi  Hecham,  "  until 
we  learn  his  purpose  in  landing  here." 

They  asked  him,  "  What  do  you  want?  " 

The  Christian  replied,  "  We  wish  to  receive,  in  the  name  of 
God,  pledges  of  security." 

All  who  were  present  said,  "  God  grants  to  you  security 
with  us." 

The  Christian  then  continued,  "  My  object  is  to  trade  with 
you." 

"  That  is  quite  agreeable  to  us,"  answered  Hecham.  Then 
Hecham  asked  the  Christian  what  he  wanted  to  purchase." 

"  Oil,  butter,  wheat,  oxen,  sheep,  and  chickens,"  said  he. 

When  the  Mussulmans  heard  this  they  gathered  together 
wheat,  oil,  oxen,  and  everything  he  had  mentioned.  He  made 
his  purchases,  and  was  well  supplied.  The  master  of  the  ship 
then  said : 

"  Our  business  is  finished.  We  must  go  back  home.  But 
we  shall  return  to  you."  Hecham  answered : 

"  That  which  I  have  done  for  you  is  not  pleasing  to  the  peo- 
ple of  Aglou.  It  is  only  on  account  of  the  pledge  of  security 
that  I  have  been  able  to  restrain  them.  I  have  given  you  all 
you  asked.  Next  time  you  come,  bring  us  fifty  cannons  and 
ten  howitzers." 

"  Very  well,"  answered  the  Christian,  "  I  shall  return  this 
time  next  year." 

"  Do  as  you  promise,"  replied  Hecham,  "  and  I  will  give  you 
whatever  you  want  in  the  country  of  the  Mussulmans." 

ii 


i6a  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

V 
A  STORY  ABOUT  THE  COUNTRY  OF  AIT-BAMOURAN 

There  arrived  in  this  country  at  the  beginning  of  the  year 
another  ship  which  stopped  at  a  place  called  Ifni,  in  the  tribe 
of  Ait-Bamouran,  and  stayed  there  three  days.  Then  one  of 
the  sailors  got  into  a  small  boat,  came  ashore,  and  said  to  the 
inhabitants,  "  I  will  buy  bread,  meat,  and  water  from  you." 

The  Mussulmans  brought  him  bread,  figs,  and  water,  saying : 
"  You  must  send  two  of  your  men  ashore  while  we  go  on  board 
the  ship  with  you." 

"  It  is  well,"  replied  the  Christian.  Then  he  went  to  get 
two  of  his  men  whom  he  brought  ashore  and  said  to  the  Mus- 
sulmans :  "  You  must  give  me  one  of  your  men." 

They  gave  him  a  hostage  to  remain  on  board  the  Christian 
ship.  Then  they  filled  a  boat,  and  boarded  the  ship  them- 
selves to  deliver  what  they  had  sold.  They  ran  all  over  the 
ship  looking  at  everything.  Then  they  said,  "  Come  with  us 
to  the  spring  and  we  will  draw  water."  The  Christians  ac- 
companied them  to  the  fountain  to  fill  their  water-casks.  The 
other  natives,  to  the  number  of  fifteen,  got  into  a  boat  and  went 
to  the  ship.  With  the  water-party  and  the  hostages  ashore 
there  were  only  four  Christians  on  the  ship  when  the  Mussul- 
mans boarded  it. 

"  Don't  come  aboard  till  our  men  have  come  back,"  said  the 
Christians. 

"  We  will  come  aboard  by  force,"  he  was  answered,  and  the 
attack  began.  One  of  the  Christians  killed  a  native  with  a 
gun.  Then  they  fought  until  the  Christians  were  overcome. 
Two  Christians  were  killed  and  the  rest  captured  and  taken 
ashore  and  imprisoned  with  the  others  of  the  water-party. 
The  ship  was  sold  for  180  mithkals.  The  Christians  were  all 
sold  and  dispersed  among  the  tribes.  The  news  of  this  spread 
to  Taccourt.  The  merchants  there  sent  to  Ait-Bamouran  and 
bought  all  the  Christians  at  any  price.  They  secured  seven. 
Three  were  missing,  of  whom  two  were  in  the  country  of  Ait- 
bou-Bekr  with  the  chief  of  that  tribe  named  Abd- Allah,  son 
of  Bou-Bekr.  The  third,  who  was  a  boy,  was  with  the  sheik 
of  Aglou,  who  said : 


THE   STORY   OF   SIDI   BRAHIM   OF   MASSAT         163 

"  I  will  not  sell  this  one,  for  he  has  become  as  dear  to  me 
as  a  son."  Then  addressing  the  young  boy  he  said,  "  I  wish 
to  convert  you;  be  a  Mussulman."  The  boy  acquiesced  and 
embraced  Islamism.  The  day  of  his  abjuration  the  sheik  killed 
in  his  honor  an  ox  for  a  festival,  and  gave  to  the  convert  the 
name  of  Mahomet.  Then  he  sent  to  say  to  all  his  tribe: 

"  Come  to  my  house.  I  have  prepared  a  repast."  The 
Mussulmans  came  and  diverted  themselves  with  their  horses 
and  gunpowder.  The  chief  told  them,  "  I  have  given  a  fourth 
of  my  possessions,  a  slave,  and  a  servant  to  this  young  man." 
He  added,  "  He  shall  live  with  my  son."  They  both  occupied 
the  same  room,  and  the  master  taught  the  young  convert  the 
whole  Koran.  The  Mussulmans  called  him  Sidi  Mahomet, 
son  of  AH.  Seven  Christians  were  ransomed  and  sent  back 
to  their  own  country. 

VI 

Information  about  the  country  Tiznit :  This  place  is  a  kind 
of  a  city  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  a  wall,  and  having  only  two 
gates.  The  water  is  in  the  centre,  in  a  fountain.  The  fortress 
is  built  above  the  fountain,  in  the  middle  of  the  city.  It  is  en- 
tirely constructed  of  mortar,  cut  stone,  marble,  and  beams,  all 
from  Christian  countries.  It  was  the  residence  of  the  khalifah 
of  the  King  in  the  time  of  Mouley-Soliman.  When  this  prince 
died,  the  people  of  Tiznit  revolted,  drove  away  the  lieutenant, 
and  made  a  concerted  attack  upon  the  citadel,  which  they  com- 
pletely destroyed.  They  took  the  stones  and  beams  and  built 
a  mosque  on  the  spot,  near  the  fountain  of  which  we  have 
spoken.  But  when  Mouley-Abd-Er- Rahman  came  to  the  throne 
he  sent  a  caliph  to  Tiznit.  He  gave  him  300  horsemen. 
When  the  caliph  arrived  near  the  town  he  waited  three  days 
and  they  gave  him  food  and  barley.  At  the  end  of  this  time 
he  made  a  proclamation  summoning  all  the  people  to  him. 
When  they  came  he  read  them  the  royal  edict  and  said: 
"  I  must  enter  your  city  to  occupy  the  fortress  of  the  King !  " 
They  said :  "  No ;  go  back  whence  you  came  and  say  to 
your  master :  '  You  shall  not  rule  over  us.  Your  fortress 
is  totally  destroyed,  and  with  the  material  we  have  built  a  big 
mosque  in  the  middle  of  our  city.' " 


164  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Prince  Mouley-Abd-Er-Rahman  sent  at  once  against  them 
his  son  Sidi-Mahomet  with  the  khalifah  and  6,000  horsemen. 
The  people  of  Tiznit  were  informed  of  the  approach  of  the 
army  under  the  Sultan's  son,  and  that  the  advancing  guard 
was  near.  The  soldiers  arrived  in  the  middle  of  the  country 
of  the  Achtouks  and  camped  in  the  city  of  Tebouhonaikt  near 
the  river  Alras.  There  was  a  day's  march  between  them  and 
Tiznit.  The  inhabitants,  frightened,  sent  deputies  to  the  other 
districts,  saying: 

"  Come  and  help  us,  for  the  Sultan's  son  has  come  and 
ordered  us  to  build  him  a  fort  in  the  space  of  one  month  or 
he  will  fall  upon  us,  cut  a  passage,  and  destroy  our  city."  The 
tribes  around  Tiznit  assembled  and  marched  against  the  royal 
army.  The  Sultan's  son  stayed  twenty-two  days  at  Tebou- 
honaikt, then  he  crossed  the  river  Alras  and  marched  against 
the  rebels.  He  surrounded  Tiznit  on  all  sides.  The  inhabi- 
tants made  a  sortie,  engaged  in  battle,  and  fought  till  the  morn- 
ing star.  At  the  fall  of  day  the  battle  recommenced.  The 
royal  army  was  defeated  and  driven  across  the  river  Alras. 
The  son  of  the  Sultan  killed  eight  rebels  and  thirty-five  horses, 
but  many  of  his  soldiers  fell.  He  retreated  to  Morocco. 

VII 

Information  about  the  country  of  Taragoust:  This  is  a 
unique  district  situated  near  the  source  of  the  Ourd-Sous.  It 
is  distant  from  Taroundant  about  a  day  and  a  half's  march. 
When  a  young  man  becomes  of  age  his  father  buys  him  a  gun 
and  a  sabre.  The  market  is  in  the  middle  of  the  country.  But 
no  man  goes  there  without  his  weapons.  The  sheiks  judge 
each  one  in  the  market  for  four  months  in  the  year  in  turn  and 
during  their  period  of  office.  They  decided  who  was  guilty 
and  demanded  price  of  blood  for  those  killed  in  the  market. 
One  of  them  said : 

"  I  will  give  nothing.  Find  the  murderer.  He  will  give  you 
the  price  of  blood." 

The  sheik  replied :  "  Pay  attention.  Give  us  part  of  your 
goods." 

"  I  will  give  you  nothing,"  he  answered. 

In  this  way  they  quarrelled,  until  they  began  fighting  with 


THE   STORY   OF   SIDI   BRAHIM   OF   MASSAT         165 

guns.  Each  tried  to  steal  the  other's  horses  and  oxen  in  the 
night  and  kill  the  owner.  They  kept  acting  this  way  toward 
each  other  until  Ben-Nacer  came  to  examine  the  villages 
where  so  many  crimes  were  committed,  and  he  reestablished 
peace  and  order. 

VIII 

Concerning  guns  and  sabres:  They  were  all  brought  into 
the  city  of  Adjadir  in  the  government  of  Sidi  Mahomet-ben- 
Abd-Alla.  They  introduced  guns,  poniards,  sabres,  English 
powder,  and  everything  one  can  mention  from  the  country 
of  the  Christians.  Sidi  Mahomet-ben-Abd-Allah  sent  there 
his  khalifah,  called  Ettaleb  Calih.  He  busied  himself  dur- 
ing his  administration  in  amassing  a  great  fortune.  The  guns 
imported  into  the  provinces  were  called  merchandise  of  the 
taleb  Calih.  This  officer  revolted  against  the  Sultan,  sent 
him  no  more  money,  and  consulted  him  no  longer  in  the  ad- 
ministration of  affairs.  When  the  prince  ordered  him  to  do 
such  and  such  a  thing  with  the  Christians,  Mussulmans,  or 
others,  he  replied: 

"  I  shall  do  as  I  please,  for  all  the  people  of  Sous  are  under 
my  hand.  I  leave  the  rest  to  you."  The  Sultan  sent  much 
money  to  Sidi  Mahomet-ben-Abd-Allah,  and  ordered  him  with 
troops  against  the  rebel.  The  latter  fought  against  the  divan 
until  he  was  captured  and  put  in  fetters  and  chains.  The  par- 
tisans of  the  Emperor  said  to  him : 

"  We  have  captured  your  khalifah  Ettaleb  Calih  and  his  ac- 
complices." 

The  prince  responded :  "  Make  him  a  bonnet  of  iron  and  a 
shirt  of  iron,  and  give  him  but  a  loaf  of  bread  a  day."  In  a 
letter  that  he  sent  he  said  also : 

"  Collect  all  the  goods  you  can  find  and  let  the  Christian 
ships  take  them  all  to  Taccourt,  leaving  nothing  whatever." 
Guns,  sabres,  powder,  sulphur,  linens,  cottons,  everything  was 
transported. 

During  the  reign  of  Sidi  Mouley  Soliman  he  built  the  city 
as  it  is  at  present.  He  increased  it,  and  said  to  the  Chris- 
tians : 

"  You  must  bring  me  cannons,  mortars,  and  powder,  and  I 


166  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

will  give  you  in  exchange  wheat,  oil,  wool,  and  whatever  you 
desire." 

The  Christians  answered :  "  Most  willingly,  we  shall  return 
with  our  products."  They  brought  him  cannons,  mortars,  and 
powder.  In  return  he  supplied  them  with  woollens,  wheat, 
oil,  and  whatever  they  desired. 

The  Ulmas  reproached  him,  saying :  "  You  are  not  fulfilling 
the  law  in  giving  to  the  Christians  wheat,  oil,  and  woollens. 
You  are  weakening  the  Mussulmans." 

He  answered  them :  "  We  must  make  sacrifices  of  these 
goods  for  two  or  three  years,  until  the  Christians  have  stocked 
us  with  cannons,  powder,  and  so  forth.  These  I  will  place  in 
the  coast  towns  to  drive  off  the  infidels  when  they  arrive." 

IX 

More  words  about  guns:  They  only  make  them  in  three 
cities  in  the  interior  of  Sous.  The  workmen  are  very  numer- 
ous. They  make  also  gun-barrels,  pistols,  gun-locks,  and  all 
such  things.  As  for  sabres  and  poniards,  they  are  made  by 
Arab  armorers.  They  make  powder  in  every  province,  but 
only  in  small  quantities. 


FIVE    BERBER    STORIES 


[Translated  by  G.  Mercier  and  Chauncey  C.  Starkweather] 


FIVE  BERBER  STORIES 

DJOKHRANE  AND  THE  JAYS 

THE  ancestor  of  the  grandfather  of  Mahomet  Amokrane 
was  named  Djokhrane.    He  was  a  Roman  of  old  times, 
who  lived  at  T'kout  at  the  period  of  the  Romans.  One 
of  his  countrymen  rose  against  them,  and  they  fought.    This 
Roman  had  the  advantage,  until  a  bird  of  the  kind  called  jays 
came  to  the  assistance  of  Djokhrane,  and  pecked  the  Roman 
in  the  eyes  until  he  saved  his  adversary.    From  that  time  forth 
he  remained  a  friend  to  Djokhrane.    The  latter  said  to  his  chil- 
dren: 

"  As  long  as  you  live,  never  eat  this  bird.  If  you  meet  any- 
one who  brings  one  of  these  birds  to  eat,  buy  it  and  set  it 
free."  To  this  day  when  anyone  brings  a  jay  to  one  of  his 
descendants,  he  buys  it  for  silver  and  gives  it  liberty.  This 
story  is  true,  and  is  not  a  lie. 

THE   OGRE   AND    THE    BEAUTIFUL    WOMAN 

Some  hunters  set  out  with  their  camels.  When  they  came 
to  the  hunting-ground  they  loosed  their  camels  to  let  them 
graze,  and  hunted  until  the  setting  of  the  sun,  and  then  came 
back  to  their  camp.  One  day  while  one  of  them  was  going 
along  he  saw  the  marks  of  an  ogre,  each  one  three  feet  wide, 
and  began  to  follow  them.  He  proceeded  and  found  the  place 
where  the  ogre  had  lately  made  his  lair.  He  returned  and 
said  to  his  companions: 

"  I've  found  the  traces  of  an  ogre.    Come,  let  us  seek  him." 

"  No,"  they  answered,  "  we  will  not  go  to  seek  him,  be- 
cause we  are  not  stronger  than  he  is." 

"  Grant  me  fourteen  days,"  said  the  huntsman.  "  If  I  re- 

169 


1 70  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

turn,  you  shall  see.  If  not,  take  back  my  camel  with  the 
game." 

The  next  day  he  set  out  and  began  to  follow  the  traces  of 
the  ogre.  He  walked  for  four  days,  when  he  discovered  a 
cave,  into  which  he  entered.  Within  he  found  a  beautiful 
woman,  who  said  to  him : 

"What  brings  thee  here,  where  thou  wilt  be  devoured  by 
this  ogre?" 

"  But  thou,"  answered  the  hunter,  "  what  is  thy  story  and 
how  did  the  ogre  bring  thee  here  ?  " 

"  Three  days  ago  he  stole  me,"  she  replied.  "  I  was 
betrothed  to  the  son  of  my  uncle,  then  the  ogre  took  me.  I 
have  stayed  in  the  cavern.  He  often  brings  me  food.  I  stay 
here,  and  he  does  not  kill  me." 

"  Where  does  he  enter,"  asked  the  hunter,  "  when  he  comes 
back  here  ?  " 

"  This  is  the  way,"  she  answered.  The  hunter  went  in  to 
the  middle  of  the  cave,  loaded  his  gun,  and  waited.  At  sunset 
the  ogre  arrived.  The  hunter  took  aim  and  fired,  hitting  the 
ogre  between  the  eyes  as  he  was  sitting  down.  Approaching 
him  he  saw  that  he  had  brought  with  him  two  men  to  cook 
and  eat  them.  In  the  morning  he  employed  the  day  in  col- 
lecting the  hidden  silver,  took  what  he  could,  and  set  out  on 
the  return.  On  the  fourteenth  day  he  arrived  at  the  place 
where  he  had  left  his  comrades,  and  found  them  there. 

"  Leave  the  game  you  have  secured  and  return  with  me  to 
the  cave,"  he  said  to  them.  When  they  arrived  they  took  all 
the  arms  and  clothing,  loaded  it  upon  their  camels,  and  set 
out  to  return  to  their  village.  Half  way  home  they  fought  to 
see  which  one  should  marry  the  woman.  The  powder  spoke 
between  them.  Our  man  killed  four,  and  took  the  woman 
home  and  married  her. 

THE  FALSE  VEZIR 

A  king  had  a  wife  who  said  to  him :  "  I  would  like  to  go  and 
visit  my  father." 

"  Very  well,"  said  he ;  "  wait  to-day,  and  to-morrow  thou 
shalt  go  with  my  vezir."  The  next  day  they  set  out,  taking 
the  children  with  them,  and  an  escort  lest  they  should  be  at- 


THE   FALSE   VEZIR 


171 


tacked  on  the  way.  They  stopped  at  sunset,  and  passed  the 
night  on  the  road.  The  vezir  said  to  the  guards,  "  Watch  that 
we  be  not  taken,  if  the  robbers  should  come  to  seize  us." 
They  guarded  the  tent.  The  vezir  asked  the  King's  wife  to 
marry  him,  and  killed  one  of  her  sons  because  she  refused. 
The  next  day  they  set  out  again.  The  next  night  he  again 
asked  the  King's  wife  to  marry  him,  threatening  to  kill  a  sec- 
ond child  should  she  refuse.  She  did  refuse,  so  he  killed  the 
second  son.  The  next  morning  they  set  out,  and  when  they 
stopped  at  night  again  he  asked  the  King's  wife  to  marry  him. 

"  I'll  kill  you  if  you  refuse." 

She  asked  for  delay,  time  to  say  her  prayers.  She  prayed 
to  God,  the  Master  of  all  worlds,  and  said :  "  O  God^  save  me 
from  the  vezir."  The  Master  of  the  worlds  heard  her  prayer. 
He  gave  her  the  wings  of  a  bird,  and  she  flew  up  in  the  sky. 

At  dawn  she  alighted  in  a  great  city,  and  met  a  man  upon 
the  roadside.  She  said :  "  By  the  face  of  God,  give  me  your 
raiment  and  I'll  give  thee  mine." 

"  Take  it,  and  may  God  honor  you,"  he  said.  Then  she  was 
handsome.  This  city  had  no  king.  The  members  of  the 
council  said: 

"  This  creature  is  handsome ;  we'll  make  him  our  king." 
The  cannon  spoke  in  his  honor  and  the  drums  beat. 

When  she  flew  up  into  the  sky,  the  vezir  said  to  the  guards : 
"  You  will  be  my  witnesses  that  she  has  gone  to  the  sky,  so 
that  when  I  shall  see  the  King  he  cannot  say,  '  Where  is 
she  ?  ' '  But  when  the  vezir  told  this  story,  the  King  said : 

"  I  shall  go  to  seek  my  wife.  Thou  hast  lied.  Thou  shalt 
accompany  me."  They  set  out,  and  went  from  village  to  vil- 
lage. They  inquired,  and  said :  "  Has  a  woman  been  found 
here  recently?  We  have  lost  her."  And  the  village  people 
said,  "  We  have  not  found  her."  They  went  then  to  another 
village  and  inquired.  At  this  village  the  Sultan's  wife  recog- 
nized them,  called  her  servant,  and  said  to  him,  "  Go,  bring  to 
me  this  man."  She  said  to  the  King,  "  From  what  motive 
hast  thou  come  hither?  " 

He  said,  "  I  have  lost  my  wife." 

She  answered :  "  Stay  here,  and  pass  the  night.  We  will 
give  thee  a  dinner  and  will  question  thee." 


1 72  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

When  the  sun  had  set  she  said  to  the  servant,  "  Go,  bring 
the  dinner,  that  the  guests  may  eat."  When  they  had  eaten 
she  said  to  the  King,  "  Tell  me  your  story." 

He  answered :  "  My  story  is  long.  My  wife  went  away  in 
the  company  of  a  trusted  vezir.  He  returned  and  said :  '  By 
God,  your  wife  has  gone  to  heaven.' 

"  I  replied :  '  No,  you  have  lied.    I'll  go  and  look  for  her.'  " 

She  said  to  him,  "  I  am  your  wife." 

"  How  came  you  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  replied :  "  After  having  started,  your  vezir  came  to 
me  and  asked  me  to  marry  him  or  he  would  kill  my  son. 
'  Kill  him,'  I  said,  and  he  killed  them  both." 

Addressing  the  vezir,  she  said :  "  And  your  story  ?  Let  us 
hear  it." 

"  I  will  return  in  a  moment,"  said  the  vezir,  for  he  feared 
her.  But  the  King  cut  off  his  head. 

The  next  day  he  assembled  the  council  of  the  village,  and 
his  wife  said,  "  Forgive  me  and  let  me  go,  for  I  am  a  woman." 

THE  SOUFI  AND  THE  TARGUI 

Two  Souafa  were  brothers.  Separating  one  day  one  said 
to  the  other :  "  O  my  brother,  let  us  marry  thy  son  with  my 
daughter."  So  the  young  cousins  were  married,  and  the 
young  man's  father  gave  them  a  separate  house.  It  happened 
that  a  man  among  the  Tonareg  heard  tell  of  her  as  a  re- 
markable woman.  He  mounted  his  swiftest  camel,  ten  years 
old,  and  went  to  her  house.  Arrived  near  her  residence,  he 
found  some  shepherds. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  said. 

"  We  are  Souafa." 

He  confided  in  one  of  them,  and  said  to  him :  "  By  the  face 
of  the  Master  of  the  worlds,  O  favorite  of  fair  women,  man 
of  remarkable  appearance,  tell  me  if  the  lady  so  and  so,  daugh- 
ter of  so  and  so,  is  here." 

"  She  is  here." 

"Well,  if  you  have  the  sentiments  of  most  men,  I  desire 
you  to  bring  her  here,  I  want  to  see  her." 

"  I  will  do  what  you  ask.  If  she'll  come,  I'll  bring  her.  If 
not,  I  will  return  and  tell  you." 


THE  SOUFI  AND  THE  TARGUI 


173 


He  set  out,  and,  arriving  at  the  house  of  the  lady,  he  saw 
some  people,  and  said  "  Good-evening  "  to  them. 

"  Come  dine  with  us,"  they  said  to  him. 

"  I  have  but  just  now  eaten  and  am  not  hungry."  He  pre- 
tended to  amuse  himself  with  them  to  shorten  the  night,  in 
reality  to  put  to  sleep  their  vigilance.  These  people  went 
away  to  amuse  themselves  while  he  met  the  lady. 

"  A  man  sends  me  to  you,"  he  said,  "  a  Targui,  who  wants 
to  marry  you.  He  is  as  handsome  as  you  are,  his  eyes  are 
fine,  his  nose  is  fine,  his  mouth  is  fine." 

"  Well,  I  will  marry  him."  She  went  to  him  and  married 
him,  and  they  set  out  on  a  camel  together.  When  the  first 
husband  returned,  he  found  that  she  had  gone.  He  said  to 
himself:  "She  is  at  my  father's  or  perhaps  my  uncle's." 
When  day  dawned  he  said  to  his  sister,  "  Go  see  if  she  is  in 
thy  father's  house  or  thy  uncle's."  She  went,  and  did  not  find 
her  there.  He  went  out  to  look  for  her,  and  perceived  the 
camel's  traces.  Then  he  saddled  his  own  camel. 

The  women  came  out  and  said:  "Stay!  Do  not  go;  we 
will  give  thee  our  own  daughters  to  marry." 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  want  to  find  my  wife."  He  goes  out, 
he  follows  the  tracks  of  the  camel,  here,  here,  here,  until  the 
sun  goes  down.  He  spends  the  night  upon  the  trail.  His 
camel  is  a  runner  of  five  years.  When  the  sun  rises  he  starts 
and  follows  the  trail  again. 

About  four  o'clock  he  arrives  at  an  encampment  of  the 
Tonareg,  and  finds  some  shepherds  with  their  flocks.  He 
confides  in  one  of  these  men,  and  says  to  him :  "  A  word, 
brave  man,  brother  of  beautiful  women,  I  would  say  a  word 
to  thee  which  thou  wilt  not  repeat." 

"  Speak." 

"  Did  a  woman  arrive  at  this  place  night  before  last?  " 

"  She  did." 

"  Hast  thou  the  sentiments  of  a  man  of  heart?  " 

"  Truly." 

"  I  desire  to  talk  to  her." 

"  I  will  take  thee  to  her.  Go,  hide  thy  camel ;  tie  him  up. 
Change  thy  clothing.  Thou  wilt  not  then  be  recognized 
among  the  sheep.  Bring  thy  sabre  and  come.  Thou  shalt 
walk  as  the  sheep  walk." 


I74  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

"  I  will  walk  toward  you,  taking  the  appearance  of  a  sheep, 
so  as  not  to  be  perceived." 

"The  wedding-festival  is  set  for  to-night,  and  everybody 
will  be  out  of  their  houses.  When  I  arrive  at  the  tent  of  this 
lady  I  will  strike  a  stake  with  my  stick.  Where  I  shall  strike, 
that  is  where  she  lives." 

He  waits  and  conceals  himself  among  the  flocks,  and  the 
women  come  out  to  milk.  He  looks  among  the  groups  of 
tents.  He  finds  his  wife  and  bids  her  come  with  him. 

"  I  will  not  go  with  thee,  but  if  thou  art  hungry,  I  will  give 
thee  food." 

"  Thou'lt  come  with  me  or  I  will  kill  thee !  " 

She  goes  with  him.  He  finds  his  camel,  unfastens  him, 
dons  his  ordinary  clothing,  takes  his  wife  upon  the  camel's 
back  with  him,  and  departs.  The  day  dawns.  She  says : 

"  O  thou  who  art  the  son  of  my  paternal  uncle,  I  am 
thirsty."  Now  she  planned  a  treachery. 

He  said  to  her :  "  Is  there  any  water  here  ?  " 

"The  day  the  Targui  took  me  off  we  found  some  in  that 
pass."  They  arrived  at  the  well. 

"  Go  down  into  the  well,"  said  the  Soufi. 

"  I'm  only  a  woman.  I'm  afraid.  Go  down  thyself."  He 
goes  down.  He  draws  the  water.  She  drinks.  He  draws 
more  water  for  the  camel,  which  is  drinking,  when  she  pours 
the  water  on  the  ground. 

"  Why  dost  thou  turn  out  the  water?  " 

"  I  did  not  turn  it  out ;  thy  camel  drank  it."  And  neverthe- 
less she  casts  her  glances  and  sees  a  dust  in  the  distance.  The 
Targui  is  coming.  The  woman  says : 

"  Now  I  have  trapped  him  for  thee." 

"  Brava !  "  he  cries,  and  addressing  the  Soufi :  "  Draw  me 
some  water  that  I  may  drink."  He  draws  the  water,  and  the 
Targui  drinks.  The  woman  says  to  him :  "  Kill  him  in  the 
well.  He  is  a  good  shot.  Thou  art  not  stronger  than  he  is." 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  I  do  not  want  to  soil  a  well  of  the 
tribes.  I'll  make  him  come  up."  The  Soufi  comes  up  till 
his  shoulders  appear.  They  seize  him,  hoist  and  bind  him, 
and  tie  his  feet  together.  Then  they  seize  and  kill  his  camel. 

"  Bring  wood,"  says  the  Targui  to  the  woman ;  "  we'll  roast 
some  meat."  She  brings  him  some  wood.  He  cooked  the 


THE  SOUFI  AND  THE  TARGUI 


175 


meat  and  ate  it,  while  she  roasted  pieces  of  fat  till  they  dripped 
upon  her  cousin. 

"  Don't  do  that,"  says  the  Targui. 

She  says,  "  He  drew  his  sword  on  me,  crying,  '  Come  with 
me  or  I  will  kill  thee.'  " 

"  In  that  case  do  as  you  like."  She  dropped  the  grease 
upon  his  breast,  face,  and  neck  until  his  skin  was  burnt.  While 
she  was  doing  this,  the  Targui  felt  sleep  coming  upon  him, 
and  said  to  the  woman,  "  Watch  over  him,  lest  he  should  slip 
out  of  our  hands." 

While  he  slept  the  Soufi  speaks :  "  Word  of  goodness,  O 
excellent  woman,  bend  over  me  that  I  may  kiss  thy  mouth  or 
else  thy  cheek.  She  says :  "  God  make  thy  tent  empty. 
Thou'lt  die  soon,  and  thou  thinkest  of  kisses  ?  " 

"  Truly  I  am  going  to  die,  and  I  die  for  thee.  I  love  thee 
more  than  the  whole  world.  Let  me  kiss  thee  once.  I'll  have 
a  moment  of  joy,  and  then  I'll  die."  She  bends  over  him,  and 
he  kisses  her. 

She  says,  "  What  dost  thou  want  ?  " 

"  That  thou  shalt  untie  me."  She  unties  him.  He  says  to 
her :  "  Keep  silent.  Do  not  speak  a  word."  Then  he  un- 
fastens the  shackles  that  bind  his  feet,  puts  on  his  cloak,  takes 
his  gun,  draws  out  the  old  charge  and  loads  it  anew,  examines 
the  flint-lock  and  sees  that  it  works  well.  Then  he  says  to  the 
woman,  "  Lift  up  the  Targui."  The  latter  awakes. 

"  Why,"  says  he,  "  didst  thou  not  kill  me  in  my  sleep  ?  " 

"  Because  thou  didst  not  kill  me  when  I  was  in  the  well. 
Get  up.  Stand  down  there,  while  I  stand  here." 

The  Targui  obeys,  and  says  to  the  Soufi :  "  Fire  first." 

"  No,  I'll  let  thee  fire  first." 

The  woman  speaks :  "  Strike,  strike,  O  Targui,  thou  art 
not  as  strong  as  the  Soufi." 

The  Targui  rises,  fires,  and  now  the  woman  gives  voice  to 
a  long  "  you — you."  It  strikes  the  chechias  that  fly  above  his 
head.  At  his  turn  the  Soufi  prepares  himself  and  says : 

"  Stand  up  straight  now,  as  I  did  for  thee."  He  fires,  and 
hits  him  on  the  forehead.  His  enemy  dead,  he  flies  at  him  and 
cuts  his  throat. 

He  then  goes  to  the  camel,  cuts  some  meat,  and  says  to  the 
woman :  "  Go,  find  me  some  wood.  I  want  to  cook  and  eat." 


1 76  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

"  I  will  not  go,"  she  says.  He  approaches,  threatening  her, 
and  strikes  her.  She  gets  up  then  and  brings  him  some  wood. 
He  cooks  the  meat  and  eats  his  fill.  He  thinks  then  of  killing 
the  woman,  but  he  fears  that  the  people  of  his  tribe  will  say, 
"  Thou  didst  not  bring  her  back."  So  he  takes  her  on  the 
camel  and  starts  homeward.  His  cousins  are  pasturing  their 
flocks  on  a  hill.  When  he  had  nearly  arrived  a  dust  arose. 
He  draws  near,  and  they  see  that  it  is  he.  His  brother  speaks, 
"  What  have  they  done  to  thee  ?  " 

He  answers,  "  The  daughter  of  my  uncle  did  all  this." 
Then  they  killed  the  woman  and  cut  her  flesh  in  strips  and 
threw  it  on  a  jujube-tree.    And  the  jackals  and  birds  of  prey 
came  and  passed  the  whole  day  eating  it,  until  there  was  none 
left. 

AHMED  EL   HILALIEU  AND   EL   REDAH 

Ahmed  el  Hilalieu  was  not  loved  by  people  in  general.  His 
enemies  went  and  found  an  old  sorceress,  and  spoke  to  her 
as  follows :  "  O  sorceress,  we  want  you  to  drive  this  man  out 
of  our  country.  Ask  what  you  will,  we  will  give  it  to  you !  " 

She  said  to  them :  "  May  God  gladden  your  faces.  Call 
aloud.  Our  man  will  come  out  and  I  will  see  him."  They 
obeyed  her,  crying  out  that  a  camel  had  escaped.  Straightway 
Ahmed  goes  to  find  his  father,  and  tells  him  his  intention  of 
going  to  join  in  the  search.  He  starts  forth  mounted  on  his 
courser,  and  on  the  way  meets  some  people,  who  tell  him, 
"  It  is  nothing."  He  makes  a  half  turn,  not  forgetting  to  water 
his  horse,  and  meets  at  the  fountain  the  sorceress,  who  was 
drawing  water. 

"  Let  me  pass,"  he  said  to  her,  "  and  take  your  buckskin 
out  of  my  way." 

"You  may  pass,"  she  answered.  He  started  his  horse, 
which  stepped  on  the  buckskin  and  tore  it. 

"  You  who  are  so  brave  with  a  poor  woman,"  she  said, 
"  would  you  be  able  to  bring  back  Redah  Oum  Zaid  ?  " 

"  By  the  religion  of  Him  whom  I  adore,  you  shall  show  me 
where  this  Redah  lives  or  I'll  cut  off  your  head." 

"  Know,  then,  that  she  lives  far  from  here,  and  that  there  is 
between  her  and  you  no  less  than  forty  days'  journey." 


AHMED   EL   HILALIEU   AND   EL   RED  AH 


177 


Ahmed  went  home,  and  took  as  provisions  for  the  journey 
forty  dates  of  the  deglet-nour  variety,  putting  them  into  his 
pocket.  He  mounted  his  steed  and  departed. 

He  goes  and  goes  without  stopping,  until  he  comes  to  the 
country  of  the  sand.  The  charger  throws  his  feet  forward 
and  buries  himself  in  the  sand  up  to  his  breast,  but  soon  stops, 
conquered  and  worn  out  by  fatigue.  Ahmed  el  -Hilalieu  then 
addresses  him: 

"  My  good  gray  horse,  of  noble  mien,  the  sand, 
The  cruel  sand  would  eat  your  very  eyes. 
The  air  no  longer  thy  loud  whinnies  bears, 
No  strength  is  left  thee  in  thy  head  or  heart. 
The  prairies  of  Khafour  I'll  give  to  thee, 
With  Nouna's  eyes  I'll  quench  thy  thirst,  by  God. 
A  mule's  whole  pack  of  barley  shah  thou  have 
That  Ben  Haddjouna  shall  bring  here  for  thee." 

In  his  turn  the  steed  spoke  and  said :  "  Dismount,  unfasten 
the  breast-strap,  tighten  the  girth,  for  some  women  are  coming 
to  show  themselves  to  us  in  this  country."  Ahmed  unfastened 
the  breast-strap,  then  remounts  and  departs.  While  he  pro- 
ceeds he  sees  before  him  the  encampment  of  a  tribe,  and  per- 
ceives a  horseman  coming,  mounted  on  a  white  mare,  en- 
gaged in  herding  camels. 

"  Blessings  upon  you ! "  cried  Ahmed ;  "  you  behind  the 
camels ! "  The  horseman  kept  silence,  and  would  not  return 
his  salutations. 

"  Greetings  to  you,"  cried  Ahmed  again,  "  you  who  are  in 
the  middle  of  the  camels."  The  same  obstinate  silence. 

"  Greetings  to  you,  you  who  are  before  the  camels."  The 
horseman  still  was  silent.  Ahmed  then  said :  "  Greetings  to 
you,  you  who  own  the  white  mare." 

"  Greetings  to  you !  "  replied  the  horseman. 

"  How  comes  it  that  you  would  not  answer  my  greetings 
for  so  long  ?  " 

The  horseman  answered :  "  You  cried  to  me, '  Greetings  to 
you,  you  who  are  behind  the  camels.'  Now,  behind  them  are 
their  tails.  Then  you  said,  '  Greetings  to  you,  you  who  are 
in  the  middle  of  the  camels.'  In  the  middle  of  them  are  their 
bellies.  You  said,  again,  '  Greetings  to  you,  you  who  are  be- 

12 


178  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

fore  the  camels.'  Before  them  are  their  heads.  You  said, 
'  Greetings  to  you,  O  master  of  the  white  mare.'  And  then  I 
answered  to  you,  '  Greetings  to  you  also.'  " 

Ahmed  el  Hilalieu  asked  of  the  shepherd,  "  What  is  your 
name  ?  " 

"  I  am  called  Chira." 

"  Well,  Chira,  tell  me  where  Redah  lives.  Is  it  at  the  city 
of  the  stones  or  in  the  garden  of  the  palms  ?  " 

"  Redah  dwells  in  the  city.  Her  father  is  the  Sultan.  Seven 
kings  have  fought  for  her,  and  one  of  them  has  refreshed  his 
heart.  He  is  named  Chalau.  Go,  seek  the  large  house.  You 
will  be  with  Redah  when  I  see  you  again." 

Ahmed  sets  out,  and  soon  meets  the  wife  of  the  shepherd, 
who  comes  before  him  and  says,  "  Enter,  be  welcome,  and 
may  good  luck  attend  you ! "  She  ties  his  horse,  gives  him  to 
drink,  and  goes  to  find  dates  for  Ahmed.  She  takes  care  to 
count  them  before  serving  him  with  them.  He  takes  out  a 
pit,  closes  the  date  again,  puts  them  all  together,  and  puts 
down  the  pit.  He  ate  nothing,  and  he  said  to  the  woman: 
"  Take  away  these  dates,  for  I  have  eaten  my  fill."  She  looks, 
takes  up  the  tray,  counts  the  dates  again,  and  perceives  that 
none  of  them  has  been  eaten.  Nevertheless,  there  is  a  pit,  and 
not  a  date  missing.  She  cries  out : 


"  Alas !  my  heart  for  love  of  this  young  man 
Is  void  of  life  as  is  this  date  of  pit." 


Then  she  heaved  a  sigh  and  her  soul  flew  away. 

Ahmed  remained  there  as  if  in  a  dream  until  the  shepherd 
came  back.  "  Your  wife  is  dead,"  he  said  to  him,  "  and  if  you 
wish,  I'll  give  you  her  weight  in  gold  and  silver." 

But  the  shepherd  answers :  "  I,  too,  am  the  son  of  a  sultan. 
I  have  come  to  pay  this  woman  a  visit  and  desire  to  see  her. 
Calm  yourself.  I  will  take  neither  your  gold  nor  silver.  This 
is  the  road  to  follow;  go,  till  you  arrive  at  the  castle  where 
she  is." 

Ahmed  starts,  and  when  he  arrives  at  the  castle,  he  stands 
up  in  his  stirrups  and  throws  the  shadow  of  his  spear  upon  the 
window. 


AHMED   EL   HILALIEU   AND   EL   REDAN  179 

Redah,  addressing  her  negress,  said  to  her:  "  See  now  what 
casts  that  shadow.  Is  it  a  cloud,  or  an  Arab's  spear?  " 

The  negress  goes  to  see,  comes  back  to  her  mistress,  and 
says  to  her,  "  It  is  a  horseman,  such  as  I  have  never  seen  the 
like  of  before  in  all  my  life." 

"  Return,"  said  Redah,  "  and  ask  him  who  he  is."  Redah 
goes  to  see,  and  says : 

"  O  horseman,  who  dost  come  before  our  eyes, 
Why  seekest  thou  thy  death  ?  Tell  me  upon 
Thine  honor  true,  what  is  thine  origin  ? 

He  answers: 

"  Oh,  I  am  Ahmed  el  Hilalieu  called.     Well  known 
'Mongst  all  the  tribes  of  daughters  of  Hilal. 
I  bear  in  hand  a  spear  that  loves  to  kill, 
Who'er  attacks  me  counts  on  flight  and  dies." 

She  says  to  him : 

"  Thou'rt  Ahmed  el  Hilalieu  ?    Never  prowls 
A  noble  bird  about  the  Zeriba ; 
The  generous  falcon  turns  not  near  the  nests, 
O  madman  !    Why  take  so  much  care 
About  a  tree  that  bears  not  any  dates  ?  " 

He  answers: 

"  I  will  demand  of  our  great  Lord  of  all 
To  give  us  rain  to  cover  all  the  land 
With  pasturage  and  flowers.    And  we  shall  eat 
Of  every  sort  of  fruit  that  grows  on  earth." 

Redah : 

"  We  women  are  like  silk.    And  only  those 
Who  are  true  merchants  know  to  handle  us." 

Ahmed  el  Hilalieu  then  says : 

"  I've  those  worth  more  than  thou  amid  the  girls 
Of  Hilal,  clad  in  daintiest  of  silk 
Of  richest  dye,  O  Redah,  O  fifth  rite." 


i8o  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

And,  turning  his  horse's  head,  he  goes  away.  But  she  re- 
calls him: 

"  I  am  an  orange,  thou  the  gardener ; 
I  am  a  palm  and  thou  dost  cut  my  fruit ; 
I  am  a  beast  and  thou  dost  slaughter  me. 
I  am — upon  thine  honor — O  gray  steed, 
Turn  back  thy  head.     For  we  are  friends  henceforth." 

She  says  to  the  negress,  "  Go  open  wide  the  door  that  he 
may  come." 

The  negress  admits  him,  and  ties  up  his  horse.  On  the  third 
day  he  sees  the  negress  laughing. 

"  Why  do  you  laugh,  negress  ?  " 

"  You  have  not  said  your  prayers  for  three  days." 


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1 


CHOICE  EXAMPLES   OF  PALEOGRAPHY. 

Fac-similes  from-  Rare  and  Curious  Manuscripts  of 
Oriental  Countries. 


PAGE  FROM  A   SYRIAC  BIBLE. 

Manuscript  written  at  St.   Thomas,  East  Indies,  about  1600. 

This  plate  affords  an  excellent  example  of  Syriac  script  at  the  time  when  the 
art  was  in  its  zenith.  It  was  the  custom  with  all  Christians  of  that  era  who  spoke 
Syriac  to  transcribe  the  Sacred  Writings  into  that  tongue  in  order  to  protect  them 
from  the  followers  of  Mahomet.  The  script  here  reproduced  is  not  only  very  regu- 
lar in  character,  but  is  more  open  and  agreeable  to  the  eye  than  the  generality  of 
Syriac  manuscripts. 


POEMS    OF    THE    MAGHREB 


[Translated  by  M.  C.  Sonneck  and  Chauncey  C.  Starkweather} 


POEMS  OF  THE  MAGHREB 


ALI'S  ANSWER 

[ARGUMENT. — It  is  related  that  a  young  man  named  Aly  ben  Bou  Fayd, 
falling  in  love  with  a  young  woman,  begged  his  father  to  ask  her  in 
marriage  for  him.  His  father  refused.  Angered,  Aly  procured  a 
gun,  engraved  his  name  upon  it,  and  betook  himself  to  the  chase. 
His  father  having  claimed  this  gun  he  answered  :] 


Y 


OU  ask  the  gun  I  have  that  bears  my  name. 
I  will  not  give  it,  save  against  my  will. 


How  comes  it,  father,  that  you  treat  me  thus? 
You  say,  "  Bring  back  the  gun  to  put  in  pledge." 
Now,  may  God  pardon  you  for  acting  thus! 
I  leave  you  in  your  land,  and,  all  for  you, 
I  swear  by  God  I  never  shall  return. 

Your  conduct  is  unwise.     Our  enemies 
Insult  me,  O  my  father.     And  I  think 
That  you  will  give  up  your  ancestral  home 
And  garden  too.    And  can  I  after  that 
Recover  my  good  gun? 

I  shall  not  be 

Enfeebled  that  I  am  no  more  with  you. 
No  longer  are  you  father  unto  me, 
And  I  shall  be  no  more  your  cherished  son. 
I  think,  my  sire,  that  you  are  growing  old. 
Your  teeth  are  falling  out  from  day  to  day. 
They  whom  you  visit  will  not  serve  you  more. 

Your  friends  won't  serve  you  longer,  and  your  sire, 
He  who  begot  you,  will  not  help  you  now. 
In  your  adversity  no  help  will  come 

183 


184  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

From  all  your  kindred's  high  nobility. 

May  God  make  easy  all  the  paths  you  tread! 

His  uncle  having  threatened  him  with  death,  he  answered 

Keep  far  away  from  him  who  has  not  come 

To  thee  in  his  misfortune.     Leave  him  free. 

My  uncle  writes  to  me  this  very  day 

That  if  he  held  in  his  own  hands  the  leaf 

Of  my  life's  destiny  he'd  blot  it  out. 

If  he  had  in  his  hands  this  leaf,  O  say  to  him : 

Let  him  efface  it  openly,  nor  hide 
You'll  not  be  able,  save  with  God's  own  help 
To  bear  the  separation.    As  for  those 
Who  are  so  evil,  we  will  spare  them  now. 
The  barrel  of  this  gun  is  rusted  red. 
The  lock  is  forceless,  'twill  no  longer  act. 
Misfortune  overtake  the  man  who  leaves 
His  child  to  perish!     For  the  least  of  things 
He  says  to  me,  "  Come,  give  me  up  this  gun." 

I  go  to  seek  the  desert.     I  will  go 
Among  the  tribe  they  call  Oulad  Azyz, 
And  live  by  force.     But,  pray  you  say  to  her, 
The  fair  one  with  the  deftly  braided  hair, 
I  leave  the  tribe,  but  shall  return  for  her. 

I  disappear,  but  shall  come  back  for  her. 
And  while  I  live,  I  never  shall  forget. 
I  swear  it  by  the  head  of  that  sweet  one 
Who  for  the  sake  of  AH  was  accused. 
The  cup  of  passion  which  I  offered  her 
O'ercame  her  lovely  spirit's  tenderness. 

The  cup  of  love  intoxicated  her. 

O  God,  Creator  of  us  all,  give  her 

The  strength  to  bear  my  absence!     Sad  for  me 

The  hour  I  dream  of  her  I  love  so  well. 

Her  love  is  in  my  heart  and  burns  it  up. 


IN   HONOR  OF   LALLA  AYCHA-EL-MANNOUBYYA     185 

My  heart  is  sad.    Tis  love  that  crushes  it. 
It  leaves  my  heart  reduced  to  naught  but  dust. 
So  that  I  am  consumed  by  vigils  long, 
And  never  taste  refreshing  sleep  at  all. 
So  that  I'm  like  a  bird  with  broken  wings, 

Just  like  a  bird  who  tries  to  lift  its  wings! 

And  so  my  spirit  is  not  healed.    There  comes 

To  me  no  comfort  nor  relief.    The  eyes 

Of  my  beloved  are  as  bright  as  day. 

One  word  from  her  would  send  the  friends  to  death. 


IN  HONOR  OF  LALLA  AYCHA-EL-MANNOUBYYA 

A  fire  burns  at  the  bottom  of  my  heart, 
For  love  has  conquered  me,  and  I  am  now 
His  hostage  and  his  prisoner.     My  soul 
Is  torn  out  from  my  body,  and  sweet  sleep 
Keeps  far  aloof  from  my  tired  eyelids'  need. 
'Tis  Aycha  causes  this,  the  pretty  one. 
With  blackest  eyes,  Aycha  the  pure,  from  whom 
I'm  parted  now,  whose  name  is  finest  gold. 
Why?  why?  Oh,  tell  me,  El  Mannoubyya. 

Why  all  this  coldness,  O  my  best  beloved? 

For  thy  dear  love  I  have  drunk  deep  of  scorn. 

For  thy  love,  maiden  with  the  darksome  looks, 

I  wither  while  thou  bear'st  a  port  of  oak. 

The  fire  that  burns  me  eats  my  very  soul. 

My  spirit  is  distracted  by  these  proofs. 

O  thou,  rebellious  to  my  warm  desires, 

My  black-eyed  beauty,  if  thou'rt  vexed  with  me 

I'll  make  apology  before  the  world, 

I'll  bring  an  offering  to  thee  at  once, 

The  symbol  of  my  homage.     May  it  please! 

Instruct  me,  sympathetic  with  my  pain 

Have  you  not  said:  "  I'll  bring  thee  soon  good  news  "? 

O  come !  That  in  my  sleep  my  eyes  may  see 

Thee  coming  toward  me,  my  black-pupilled  one! 


1 86  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Awaiting  thy  fair  image  I'm  consumed, 
I  am  exhausted.    Why,  El  Mannoubyya? 

I  long  have  hoped  to  see  thee,  O  my  sweet. 
And  ever  farther  off  appears  the  end 
Of  my  awaiting.    All  my  nights  are  passed 
In  cries  for  thee,  as  some  poor  mariner 
Cries  to  the  angry  floods  that  dash  aloft. 
For  thee  I'm  mad  with  love,  my  pretty  one, 
Struck  with  thy  mien  so  full  of  nobleness. 
And  I  alone  must  wither,  'mongst  my  friends. 

0  unpersuadable,  with  teasing  eyes, 

1  am  in  a  most  pitiable  state. 

Since  thou  repell'st  me  and  declin'st  to  keep 
Thy  promise  to  me,  I'll  not  hesitate 
To  call  thee  before  God. 

Unless  thou  deign'st 

To  cast  thy  looks  on  me  the  coming  day, 
I  shall,  all  clad  in  vestments  rich,  make  plaint 
Unto  the  envoy  of  our  God,  the  last 
Of  all  the  prophets.     For  thou  said'st  to  me, 
"  I'll  draw  thee  from  the  sea  of  thy  despair." 
I  worship  at  thy  sanctuary,  sweet, 
My  beauty,  with  large  eyes  of  darkest  night. 
Why?  why?  El  Mannoubyya,  tell  me  why. 

Let  thyself  bend  and  call  thy  servitor, 

Inhabitant  of  Tunis — city  green. 

I  will  apologize  and  come  to  thee, 

O  cruel  one,  with  heavy  frontlets  dark. 

We've  heard  the  story  of  thy  deeds  so  fine. 

From  common  brass  whene'er  thou  walk'st  abroad, 

Thou  drawest  silver  pure,  queen  of  thy  time, 

'Mongst  men  illumined  by  thy  piety. 

The  wretch,  led  on  by  love,  accosted  thee. 

Receiving  grace,  despite  his  base  design 

He  was,  nathless,  forgiven  and  saved  from  sin; 

So  was  it  from  eternity  decreed. 

They  all  consulted  thee,  queen  of  thy  day, 


SAYD   AND   HYZYYA  187 

And  thou  didst  answer :     "  This  man  truly  loved. 
Pour  him  a  cup  of  wine."     By  thee  he  came 
Unto  perfection's  acme,  step  by  step. 
Our  Lord,  all-powerful,  gave  to  thee  this  power. 

These  are  thy  merits,  fairest  citizen! 
To  whom  God  gave  strength  irresistible. 
O  beauty  with  enchanting  eyes,  Aycha, 
Our  queen. 

Si  Alimed  Khoudja,  greatest  bard 
Of  all  that  time,  has  said :  "  I  wrote  these  words 
The  year  one  thousand  one  hundred  just, 
But  thou  who  read'st  these  lines,  where'er  it  be, 
Add  to  these  numbers,  after  ninety-eight." 
Now  I  salute  all  those  united  here 
And  him  who  hates  me  here  I  steep  in  scorn. 
Why?  why?  El  Mannoubyya!  Why? 


SAYD   AND   HYZYYA 

Give  me  your  consolation,  noble  friends; 
The  queen  of  beauties  sleeps  within  the  tomb. 
A  burning  fire  consumes  my  aching  breast; 
I  am  undone.     Alas!     O  cruel  fate! 
My  heart's  with  slim  Hyzyya  in  the  grave. 

Alas !  we  were  so  happy  a  short  while 
Ago,  just  like  the  prairie  flow'rs  in  spring; 
How  sweet  to  us  was  life  in  those  dear  days! 
Now  like  a  phantom's  shadow  she  has  gone, 
That  young  gazelle,  of  utter  loveliness. 
Removed  by  stern,  inevitable  fate. 

When  she  walked  forth,  not  looking  right  or  left, 

My  beauteous  loved  one  rendered  fools  the  wise. 

Impressed  thus  was  the  great  bey  of  the  camp. 

A  gleaming  poniard  rested  in  his  belt. 

He  went  hemmed  in  by  soldiers  and  a  horde 

Of  horsemen,  glad  to  follow  where  he  led. 


1 88  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

All  haste  to  bring  him  costly  gifts.     He  bore 
A  sabre  of  the  Ind,  and  with  one  stroke 
He  cleaved  a  bar  of  iron,  split  a  rock. 
How  many  rebels  fell  beneath  his  blow! 
Haughty  and  proud,  he  challenged  all  who  came. 
Enough  now  we  have  glorified  the  bey. 
Speak,  singer,  in  a  song  that's  sweet  and  new, 
The  praises  of  the  dainty  girl  I  loved, 
The  daughter  of  good  Ahmed  ben  el  Bey. 

Give  me  your  consolation,  noble  friends ; 
The  queen  of  beauties  sleeps  within  the  tomb. 
A  burning  fire  consumes  my  aching  breast; 
I  am  undone !    Alas !     O  cruel  fate ! 

She  lets  her  tresses  flow  in  all  the  breeze, 

Exhaling  sweet  perfume.    Thy  brows  are  arched 

In  beauty's  curve.     Thy  glance  is  like  a  ball 

Shot  from  a  Christian's  gun,  which  hits  the  mark. 

Thy  cheek  is  lovely  as  the  morning  rose 

Or  bright  carnation,  and  thy  ruby  blood 

Gives  it  the  shining  brightness  of  the  sun. 

Thy  teeth  are  ivory-white,  and  thy  warm  kiss 

Is  sweet  as  milk  or  honey  loved  by  all. 

Oh,  see  that  neck,  more  white  than  palm-tree's  heart, 

That  sheath  of  crystal,  bound  with  bands  of  gold. 

Thy  chest  is  marble,  and  thy  tender  breasts 

Are  apples  whose  sweet  scent  makes  well  the  ill. 

Thy  body  is,  like  paper,  shining,  white, 

Or  cotton  or  fine  linen,  or,  again, 

Just  like  the  snow  that  falls  in  a  dark  night. 

Hyzyya  lets  her  sash  hang  gracefully, 

Down-falling  to  the  earth,  in  fold  on  fold. 

Her  fine  limbs  jingle  with  gems  she  wears. 

Her  slippers  clink  with  coupled  rings  of  gold. 

We  were  encamped  at  Bazer.    Every  day 
At  dawn  I  saw  the  beauty,  and  we  were 
So  glad  together !     Every  dawn  I  brought 
My  wishes  to  my  love  and  followed  fate 
More  happy  than  if  I  alone  possessed 


SAYD   AND    HYZZYA  189 

All  riches  and  all  treasures  of  the  earth. 
Wealth  equals  not  the  tinkle  of  her  gems. 
When  I  had  crossed  the  mountain  there  I  met 
Hyzyya,  and  she  walked  amid  the  fields 
With  every  grace,  and  made  her  bracelets  ring. 
My  reason  wandered,  heart  and  head  were  vexed. 

After  a  happy  summer  passed  at  Tell, 

We  came,  my  dearest  one  and  I,  Sahara-ward. 

The  litters  now  are  closed,  the  powder  sounds. 

My  gray  horse  to  Hyzyya  bears  me  swift. 

The  palanquin  of  my  coquette's  on  route. 

At  Azal  when  night  comes  we  pitch  our  tents. 

Sydy-1-Ahsen  is  before  us  now; 

Ez-Zerga,  too.    Then  faring  on  we  go 

To  Sydy  Sayd,  and  Elmetkeouk, 

And  Medoukal-of-palms,  where  we  arrive 

At  eventide.    We  saddle  up  at  dawn, 

Just  when  the  breeze  begins.    Our  halting-place, 

Sydy  Mehammed,  decks  this  peaceful  earth. 

From  there  the  litters  seek  El  Mekheraf. 

My  charger  gray  straight  as  an  eagle  goes. 

I  wend  to  Ben  Seryer  with  my  love, 

Of  tattooed  arms.    When  we  had  crossed  Djedy 

We  passed  the  wide  plain,  and  we  spent  the  night 

At  Rous-et-toual,  near  the  gleaming  sands. 

Ben  Djellal  was  our  next  day's  resting-place; 

And,  leaving  there,  I  camped  at  El  Besbas, 

And  last  at  El-Herymek,  with  my  love. 

How  many  festivals  beheld  us  then! 
In  the  arena  my  good  steed  of  gray 
Fled  like  a  ghost.    And  sweet  Hyzyya  there, 
Tall  as  a  flagstaff,  bent  her  gaze  on  me, 
Her  smile  disclosing  teeth  of  purest  pearl. 
She  spoke  but  in  allusions,  causing  thus 
That  I  should  understand  whate'er  she  meant. 
Hamyda's  daughter  then  might  be  compared 
Unto  the  morning-star  or  a  tall  palm, 
Alone,  erect  among  the  other  trees. 


190  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

The  wind  uprooted  it,  and  dashed  it  down. 
I  did  not  look  to  see  it  fall,  this  tree 
I  hoped  forever  to  protect.     I  thought 
That  God,  divinely  good,  would  let  it  live. 
But  God,  the  Master,  dashed  it  to  the  earth. 

I  take  up  now  my  song.     We  made  but  one 

Encampment,  at  Oned  Itel.     Twas  there 

My  friend,  the  queen  of  damsels,  said  farewell. 

'Twas  in  the  night  she  paid  the  debt  of  death. 

'Twas  there  my  dark-eyed  beauty  passed  away. 

She  pressed  her  heart  to  mine  and,  sighing,  died. 

My  cheeks  were  flooded  with  a  sea  of  tears. 

I  thought  to  lose  my  reason.     I  went  forth 

And  wandered  through  the  fields,  ravines,  and  hills. 

She  bore  my  soul  away,  my  black-eyed  love. 

The  daughter  of  a  noble  race.    Alas! 

She  still  increased  the  burnings  of  my  heart. 

They  wrapped  her  in  a  shroud,  my  noble  love. 

The  fever  took  me,  burning  up  my  brain. 

They  placed  her  on  a  bier,  all  decked  with  gems. 

And  I  was  in  a  stupor,  dull  to  see 

All  that  was  passing  on  that  dreadful  day. 

They  bore  my  beauty  in  a  palanquin — 

Her  pretty  palanquin — this  lovely  girl, 

Cause  of  my  sorrows,  tall  as  a  straight  staff. 

Her  litter  is  adorned  with  odd  designs, 

Shining  as  brilliant  as  the  morning-star, 

And  like  the  rainbow  glowing  'midst  the  clouds, 

All  hung  with  silk  and  figured  damask-cloth. 

And  I,  like  any  child,  was  in  despair, 

Mourning  Hyzyya.     Oh,  what  pangs  I  felt 

For  her  whose  profile  was  so  pure!     She  nevermore 

Will  reappear  upon  this  earth  again. 

She  died  the  death  of  martyrs,  my  sweet  love, 

My  fair'st  one,  with  Koheul-tinted  lids! 

They  took  her  to  a  country  that  is  called 

Sydy  Kaled,  and  buried  her  at  night, 

My  tattooed  beauty.     And  her  lovely  eyes, 


SAYD   AND   HYZZYA 

Like  a  gazelle's,  have  never  left  my  sight. 

0  sexton,  care  now  for  my  sweet  gazelle, 
And  let  no  stones  fall  on  Hyzyya's  grave. 

1  do  adjure  thee  by  the  Holy  Book 

And  by  the  letters  which  make  up  the  name 

Of  God,  the  Giver  of  all  good,  let  no 

Earth  fall  upon  the  dame  with  mirror  decked. 

Were  it  to  claim  her  from  a  rival's  arms 
I  would  attack  three  troops  of  warriors. 
I'd  take  her  from  a  hostile  tribe  by  force. 
Could  I  but  swear  by  her  dear  head,  my  love, 
My  black-eyed  beauty — I  would  never  count 
My  enemies,  'though  they  a  hundred  were. 
Were  she  unto  the  strongest  to  belong 
I  swear  she  never  would  be  swept  from  me. 

In  the  sweet  name  Hyzyya  I'd  attack 
And  fight  with  cavaliers  innumerable. 
Were  she  to  be  the  spoil  of  conqueror, 
You'd  hear  abroad  the  tale  of  my  exploits. 
I'd  take  her  by  main  strength  from  all  who  vied. 
Were  she  the  meed  of  furious  encounters 
I'd  fight  for  years  for  her,  and  win  at  last! 
For  I  am  brave.     But  since  it  is  the  will 
Of  God,  the  mighty  and  compassionate, 
I  cannot  ward  away  from  me  this  blow. 
I'll  wait  in  patience  for  the  happy  day 
When  I  shall  join  thee.     For  I  only  think 
Of  thee,  my  dearest  love,  of  thee  alone! 

My  gray  steed  fell  dead  as  he  leaped.    O  friends, 
After  my  love,  he's  gone  and  left  me,  too. 
My  charger,  'mid  these  hills,  was  of  all  steeds 
The  fleetest,  and  in  fiercest  war's  attack 
All  saw  him  at  the  head  of  the  platoon. 
What  prodigies  he  wrought  in  war's  red  field! 
He  showed  himself  ahead,  of  all  his  peers. 
A  blood-mare  was  his  mother.     He  excelled 
In  all  the  contests  'twixt  the  wandering  camps ; 
I  tourneyed  with  him  careless  of  my  fate. 


191 


1 92  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

When  just  a  month  had  passed  I  lost  the  steed. 
Hyzyya  first,  and  then  this  noble  horse. 
He  did  not  long  survive  my  well-beloved. 
They  both  are  gone,  leaving  their  last  farewells. 

0  grief!  my  charger's  reins  have  fallen  down. 
God  made  my  life  a  death,  in  leaving  me 
Behind.     For  them  I  die.     Oh,  cruel  hurt! 

1  weep  for  this  just  as  a  lover  weeps. 

Each  day  my  heart  burns  fiercer,  and  my  joy 
Has  fled  away.     Now  tell  me,  O  my  eyes, 
Why  shed  so  many  tears?     Beyond  a  doubt 
The  pleasures  of  the  world  will  capture  you. 
And  will  you  grant  no  mercy?    My  sad  soul 
But  sees  its  torments  grow.     My  pretty  one, 
With  lashes  black,  who  was  my  heart's  delight, 
Now  sleeps  beneath  the  sod.     I  do  but  weep 
And  my  head  whitens  for  the  beauteous  one, 
With  pearly  teeth.     My  eyes  no  longer  can 
Endure  the  separation  from  their  friend. 

The  sun  that  lights  us  to  the  zenith  climbs, 
Then  gains  the  west.     It  disappears  from  sight 
When  it  has  gained  the  summit  of  the  vault 
Celestial.    And  the  moon,  which  comes  and  shines 
At  Ramadan,  beholds  the  hour  approach 
Of  sleep,  and  says  farewell  to  all  the  world. 
To  these  would  I  compare  the  lovely  queen 
Of  all  this  age,  the  daughter  of  Ahmed, 
Descendant  of  a  race  illustrious, 
The  daughter  of  Donaonda. 

Such  is 

The  will  of  God,  all-powerful  Lord  of  men. 
The  Lord  hath  shown  his  will  and  borne  away 
Hyzyya.     Grant  me  patience,  O  my  Lord! 
My  heart  dies  of  its  hurt.     Hyzyya's  love 
Did  tear  it  from  me  when  she  left  the  earth. 

She's  worth  a  hundred  steeds  of  noble  race, 
A  thousand  camels,  and  a  grove  of  palms 


SAYD   AND   HYZYYA 

In  Zyban.     Yes,  all  Djryd  is  she  worth, 

From  near  to  far.     The  country  of  the  blacks, 

Haoussa  and  its  people  is  she  worth, 

Arabians  of  Tell  and  dry  Sahara, 

And  the  encampments  of  the  tribes,  as  far 

As  caravans  can  reach  by  all  the  ways, 

All  nomads  and  all  travellers,  she's  worth, 

And  those  who  settle  down  as  citizens. 

The  treasurer  of  all  riches  is  she  worth, 

My  black-eyed  beauty.     And  if  thou  dost  think 

This  all  too  small,  add  all  the  cities'  folk. 

She's  worth  all  flocks  and  nicely  chisel'd  gold, 

She's  worth  the  palms  of  Dra  and  Chaouyya; 

All  that  the  sea  contains,  my  love  is  worth, 

The  fields  and  cities  from  beyond  Djebel 

Amour,  as  far  as  Ghardaya.     She  is  worth 

All  Mzab,  the  plains  of  Zab.     She  pleases,  too, 

The  people  of  the  Goubba,  holy  folk, 

And  friends  of  God.     She's  worth  all  noble  steeds 

However  richly  housed — or  evening's  star 

When  twilight  comes.    Too  small — 'tis  all  too  small 

For  my  sweet  love,  sole  cure  of  all  my  woes. 

O  God  majestic,  pardon  this  poor  wretch ! 

Pardon,  O  Lord  and  Master,  him  who  grieves! 

Just  three-and-twenty  years!     That  was  the  age 
Of  her  who  wore  the  silken  sash.     My  love 
Has  followed  her,  ne'er  to  revive  within 
My  widowed  heart.     Console  me,  Mussulmans, 
My  brothers,  for  the  loss  of  my  sweet  one, 
Gazelle  of  all  gazelles,  who  dwelleth  now 
In  her  cold,  dark,  eternal  home. 
Console  me,  O  young  friends,  for  having  lost 
Her  whom  you'd  call  a  falcon  on  its  nest. 
Naught  but  a  name  she  left  behind  which  I 
Gave  to  the  camp  wherein  she  passed  away. 
Console  me,  men,  for  I  have  lost  my  fair, 
Dear  one,  that  silver  khelkals  wore. 
Now  is  she  covered  with  a  veil  of  stone, 
On  strong  foundation  laid.    Console  me,  friends, 
13 


194 


MOORISH    LITERATURE 

For  all  this  loss,  for  she  loved  none  but  me. 

With  my  own  hands  my  love's  chest  I  tattooed, 

Likewise  her  wrists,  with  checkered  patterns  odd, 

Blue  as  the  collar  of  the  gentle  dove. 

Their  outlines  did  not  clash,  so  deftly  drawn, 

Although  without  galam — my  handiwork. 

I  drew  them  'twixt  her  breasts,  and  on  her  wrists 

I  marked  my  name.     Such  is  the  sport  of  fate ! 

Now  Sa'yd,  always  deep  in  love  with  thee, 
Shall  never  see  thee  more!  The  memory 
Of  thy  dear  name  fills  all  his  heart,  my  sweet. 

Oh,  pardon,  God  compassionate,  forgive 
Us  all.     Sa'yd  is  sad,  he  weeps  for  one 
Dear  as  his  soul.     Forgive  this  love,  Lord! 
Hyzyya — join  them  in  his  sleep,  O  God  most  high. 
Forgive  the  author  of  these  verses  here! 
It  is  Mahomet  that  recites  this  tale. 

0  Thou  who  hast  the  future  in  thy  hand, 
Give  resignation  to  one  mad  with  love! 

Like  one  exiled  from  home,  I  weep  and  mourn. 
My  enemies  might  give  me  pity  now. 
All  food  is  tasteless,  and  I  cannot  sleep. 

1  write  this  with  my  love  but  three  days  dead. 
She  left  me,  said  farewell,  and  came  not  back. 

This  song,  O  ye  who  listen,  was  composed 

Within  the  year  twelve  hundred  finished  now, 

The  date  by  adding  ninety-five  years  more.     [1295.] 

This  song  of  Ould-es-Serge  we  have  sung 
In  Ayd-el-Rebye,  in  the  singing  month, 
At  Sydy-Khaled-ben  Sinan.     A  man, 
Mahomet  ben  Guytoun,  this  song  has  sung 
Of  her  you'll  never  see  again  alive. 
My  heart  lies  there  in  slim  Hyzyya's  tomb. 


THE   AISSAOUA   IN    PARIS  195 


THE  AISSAOUA  IN  PARIS* 

Come,  see  what's  happened  in  this  evil  year. 
The  earthquake  tumbled  all  the  houses  down, 
Locusts  and  crickets  have  left  naught  behind. 

Hear  what  has  happened  to  those  negro  scamps, 
Musicians — rogues,  and  Aiissaoua. 
They  spoke  of  nothing  but  their  project  great. 
Bad  luck  to  him  who  lacks  sincerity ! 

On  learning  of  the  tour  of  Rayyato 

They  all  began  to  cry  and  run  about, 

Half  with  bare  feet,  although  the  rest  were  shod. 

The  Lord  afflicts  them  much  in  this  our  world. 

'Twas  only  negroes,  poor  house-colorers, 

Who  did  not  follow  them  about  in  crowds. 

The  Christian  Salvador  put  them  on  ship. 

One  felt  his  breast  turn  and  exclaimed,  "  I'm  sick." 

A  wench  poured  aromatics  on  the  fire, 

And  thus  perfumed  the  air.    For  Paris  now 

They're  off,  to  see  the  great  Abd-el-Azyz. 

The  Christians  packed  them  like  a  cricket-swarm, 
Between  the  sea  and  church,  upon  the  wharf 
He  drew  them,  wonders  promising,  and  led 
Them  but  to  beggary. 

He  takes  them  to 

His  land  to  show  them  to  the  chief  of  all 
His  masters,  to  the  Emperor.     He  hopes 
To  get  a  present  and  thus  pay  them  back, 
Retaining  all  the  money  he  advanced. 

*  Former  student   of  the   Medersa  ot  This  lively  poem  was  composed  by  him 

Algiers,     bookbinder,     lutemaker,     and  on    the    occasion    of    the    departure   for 

copier    of    manuscripts,    Qaddour    ben  Paris  of  a  band  of  musicians,  singers, 

Omar   ben   Beuyna,   best  known  among  and   Aissaoua,   who   figured   at   the   Ex- 

his  coreligionists  as  Qaddour  el  Hadby  position  of  1867,  under  the  direction  of 

(the  hunchback),   who  died  during  the  a  professor   of  music   named   Salvador 

winter  of  1897-1808,  has  sung  for  thirty  Daniel.    The  original  is   in   couplets  of 

years  about  all  the  notables  of  his  city.  six  hemistichs. 


196  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Perhaps  they'll  show  themselves  upon  some  stage 
Or  elsewhere  as  his  fancy  leads.     The  blacks 
Begin  to  dance  to  sound  of  castanets. 
The  Christians  bet  on  what  will  happen  next. 

They  say  a  letter  has  arrived  which  says 

That  they've  suppressed  ablutions  and  their  prayers. 

One  has  been  very  ill — "  I  do  not  know 

What  is  the  matter  with  me  " — but  the  cause 

Of  all  his  illness  was  because  he  fell 

On  the  perfuming-pans  that  they  had  brought. 

For  Imam  they  have  ta'en  the  dancing-girl 
Who  leads  the  dances.     With  her  boxes  small 
In  basket  made  of  grass,  a  picture  fine! 
Come,  see  it  now ;  you'd  think  it  was  a  ghost. 

The  Christian  works  them  all,  and  most  are  seized 

With  folly.     Would  you  know  the  first  of  all? 

Well,  sirs,  'tis  Et-Try,  and  he  is  the  son 

Of  one  Et-Germezlyya.     Never  has 

He  thought  of  doing  well,  he  lives  for  crime. 

The  shrewd  "  Merkanty  "  made  a  profit  on  them. 

Et-Try  served  them  as  an  interpreter. 

The  Christian  ought  to  make  them  this  year  gain 

A  thousand  d'oros.     But  I  pray  to  God 

To  send  those  two  men  to  the  fires  of  hell. 

Now  Aly  Et-Try  is  their  manager ; 
He  runs  about  all  day,  with  naught  achieved. 
The  Christian  kept  them  in  a  stable  shut, 
And  like  a  squad  of  soldiers  took  them  out. 
He  herded  them  like  oxen  there,  and  naught 
Was  lacking  but  the  drover's  lusty  cries. 

Consider  now  the  plight  of  Ould  Sayyd, 
The  big- jawed  one.     He  gained  ten  thousand  francs/ 
And  lost  them  all  at  gambling.     Naught  remains 
Except  the  benches  and  some  coffee-grounds. 


THE  AISSAOUA   IN   PARIS  197 

The  leader  of  musicians,  wholly  daft, 
Whose  beard  is  whiter  than  the  whitest  wool, 
Has  gone  to  Paris  gay  to  see  the  sights. 
(I  hope  he'll  bring  up  in  the  fires  of  hell!) 
If  he  comes  back  deceived,  at  least  he'll  say 
He's  been  abroad,  and  dazzle  all  his  friends. 

The  oboe-player,  Sydy  Ali,  was 

Barber  and  cafekeeper,  eager  for 

A  change,  and  crazy  to  get  gold.     "  This  trip," 

He  told  his  friends,  "  is  but  a  pilgrimage." 

There's  nothing  lacking  but  the  telbyya. 

"  I've  taken  trips  before  and  with  good  luck. 

I  was  the  master,  with  my  art  acclaimed. 

I  was  director  of  the  Nouba,  at 

The  court,  when  Turkey  held  the  reins  of  power. 

I  was  a  court  buffoon  and  broke  my  heart. 

0  Lord,  why  send'st  thou  not  thy  servant  death? 

"  I  left  a  workman  in  my  shop  so  that 

1  might  not  lose  my  trade.     I  went  to  show 
My  oboe,  for  someone  might  ask  for  it. 

I  used  to  travel  with  musicians  once." 

God  bless  him ! — what  a  workman.     He  conversed 
With  all  the  customers  who  passed  that  way. 
He  took  them  in  the  shop  and  told  his  case — 
"  I'm  here  for  a  short  while."     Then  he  began 
To  praise  his  patron,  who,  he  said,  would  have 
A  gift  for  him. 

And  his  lieutenant,  named 
Oulyd-el-Hadj  Oualy,  is  a  fool 
Who  thinks  his  word  superior  to  all, 
And  that  there's  no  one  like  him  in  this  world. 
When  he  has  gone  there  and  come  back  again, 
He  will  be  perfect.     All  he  contradicts 
Who  speak  to  him,  and  will  not  let  them  lift 
A  finger.     Little  love  he  hath  for  those 


198  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Who  speak  with  candor,  but  he's  very  fond 
Of  liars,  and  always  bids  them  come  to  him. 

"  My  childhood  was  so  pampered !  "  he  remarks, 

And  flies  into  a  passion  if  one  doubts. 

He  only  lives  on  semolina  coarse, 

And  empty  is  his  paunch,  all  slack  and  limp. 

Yet  every  day  he  tells  you  how  he's  dined. 

"  I  have  discovered,"  he  is  wont  to  say 
"A  certain  semolina  lately  brought 
By  a  Maltese,  who  lives  some  distance  off. 
You  never  saw  the  like.     I'm  going  to  have 
Some  fine  cakes  made  of  it,  and  some  meqrout" 

And  El-Hadj  Mostefa  was  dragged  along 

By  all  these  lies  and  by  the  love  of  gain. 

If  God  had  not  abandoned  him,  he'd  be 

Still  making  lasts.     But  'twas  the  crowd  that  led 

Him  on,  and  that  is  how  it  came  to  pass. 

With  them  is  donkey-faced  Hamyda,  who 
Sold  flowers  in  the  market-place.     He  left 
His  family  no  coins  to  live  upon, 
But  told  them  only :    "  Moderate  your  pace. 
I'll  buy  a  house  for  you  when  I  get  back, 
And  we  shall  live  in  plenty  evermore." 

Sydy  Ahmed  et  Tsoqba  timbals  had 
As  big  as  goat-skin  bottles.     He  desired 
To  play  in  unison,  but  the  musicians  all 
Abhorred  him,  for  he  could  not  keep  in  time. 

The  heart  of  Sydy  Ahmed  glows  with  love 
For  Ayn-bou-Sellouf,  who  is  very  fair. 
I  hope  that  cares  and  fainting-fits  may  swell 
Him  out,  and  yellow  he  will  straight  become 
As  yellow  as  a  carrot  in  a  field. 

I  love  Sydy-t-Tayyeb  when  he  sings 
And  plays  the  tambourine.     Such  ugliness 


THE  AISSAOUA   IN   PARIS  199 

My  eyes  have  never  seen.     You'd  think  he  was 
A  clown.     He  says :    "  No  one  could  vanquish  me 
Were  I  not  just  a  trifle  ill  to-day." 

Qaddour,  the  little  cock,  the  drummer-boy, 
Who  hangs  on  walls  and  colors  houses  here 
Or  tars  roofs  with  his  mates,  exclaims :    "  I  took 
This  voyage  just  to  get  a  bit  of  air." 

Koutchouk  stayed  here,  he  did  not  go  away. 
Fresh  apricots  he  sells  down  in  the  square. 
"  Repose,"  he  murmurs,  "  is  the  best  of  foods, 
And  here  my  little  heart  shall  stay  in  peace." 

When  Abd-el-Quader,  undertaker's  son, 
Falls  in  his  fits  of  folly,  he  binds  round 
His  figure  with  a  cord  and  does  not  lie 
Inert  and  stiff.     But  still  they  scorpions  see 
In  Allal's  hand,  Chaouch  of  Aissaoua. 

Faradjy — fop — eats  fire  and  fig-leaves  now ; 
The  while  Hasan  the  Rat  excites  him  on 
To  doughty  deeds  with  his  loud  tambourine. 
Playing  with  all  his  might  and  all  his  soul. 
They  dragged  the  hedge-rows  green  of  El  Qettar 
To  pay  this  tribute  to  the  Emperor. 

That  fop,  Ben  Zerfa,  who  chopped  hashish  seeds 
Among  us  here,  said :    "  We  have  had  good  luck 
This  summer,  and  I'm  going  to  pay  my  debts. 
I'll  execute  my  drill  with  stick  and  sword 
And  serve  my  sheik  the  very  best  I  can." 

If  you  had  seen  Ben  Zerfa  as  he  ran, 

So  lightly,  bearing  on  his  sturdy  back 

A  basket  filled  with,  heaven  alone  knows  what! 

It  looked  like  cactus-pears,  the  basket  closed. 

El  Hadj  Batata — see  his  silly  trance! 
With  shirt  unbuttoned  and  with  collar  off, 
And  cap  on  eyes,  at  beating  of  the  drums, 
He  shows  his  tuft  denuded  all  of  hair. 


200  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Even  Mostafa  ben  el  Meddah  desired 

To  go  to  Paris  and  his  fortune  make. 

"  On  my  return,"  he  said,  "  I'll  buy  a  lamp, 

A  coffee-tray,  and  goodly  sugar-bowl ; 

A  big  and  little  mattress,  too,  I'll  buy, 

A  carpet  and  a  rug  so  soft  and  fine." 

Es  Snybla,  bellows-faced,  who  used  to  work 

For  our  good  mayor,  off  to  Paris  went 

To  make  the  soldiers'  coffee.    When  he  comes 

Back  home  again,  so  much  he  will  have  earned. 

He  will  be  richer  than  a  merchant  great. 

Oh,  welcome,  Sydy  Omar!    All  of  Paris 
Is  charmed  to  see  you,  O  my  Snybla  dear ! 
If  he  would  only  go  to  Mexico, 
And  stay  there  it  would  be  a  riddance  good. 

He  is  a  cafekeeper,  and  his  son 

A  baker.     For  associate  he  has 

Sydy  Aly  Mehraz,  who  does  his  work 

Astride  a  thorn;  he  surely  doth  deserve 

Our  compliments.     All  three  you  see  are  dressed 

In  duck,  in  fashion  of  the  Christian  men. 

There's  de  Merzong;  the  people  say  he's  good, 

But  still  they  fear  him,  he  is  so  uncouth. 

Good  God !     When  he  begins  aloud  to  cry 

In  Soudanese,  it  is  enough  to  make 

You  fly  to  the  antipodes  away. 

Oulyd  ben  Zamoum  saw  his  cares  increase — 

Since  he  is  a  musician,  as  he  thinks, 

The  world  is  rid  of  him.    And  when  he  starts 

To  play  the  first  string  of  the  violin, 

The  while  the  Jewess  doth  begin  to  sing! 

With  him  two  Jews  departed,  and  the  like 

You  never  saw  on  earth.    A  porcupine 

The  first  resembled,  and  the  other  one 

Was  one-eyed.    You  should  hear  them  play  the  lute! 

Some  persons  heard  my  story  from  afar, 
Oulyd  Sydy  Sayd,  among  them,  and 


THE   AISSAOUA   IN    PARIS  201 

Brymat,  who  laughed  abundantly.    And  with 

Them  was  the  chief  of  Miliana.    All 

Were  seated  on  an  iron  bench,  within 

The  right-hand  shop.    They  called  me  to  their  booth 

Where  I  had  coffee  and  some  sweets.    But  when 

They  said,  "  Come  take  a  smoke,"  I  was  confused. 

"  Impossible,"  I  answered,  "  for  I  have 

With  Sydy  Hasan  Sydy  Khelyl  studied, 

And  the  Senousyya.    So  I  cannot." 

Ben  Aysa  came  to  me,  with  angry  air, 

"  The  Antichrist,"  he  said,  "  shall  spring  from  thee. 

I  saw  within  that  book  you  have  at  home 

His  story  truly  told."    "  You're  right,"  said  I, 

"  Much  thanks !  "    And  then  I  laughed  to  see 

Him  turn  his  eyes  in  wrath. 

He  said  to  me 

'Tis  not  an  action  worthy  of  a  man ; 
He  glared  at  me  with  eyes  as  big  as  cups 
And  face  an  egg-plant  blue.    He  wanted  to 
Get  at  me,  in  his  rage,  and  do  me  harm. 

With  him  my  uncle  was,  Mahomet-ben- 
El-Haffaf,  who  remains  at  prayer  all  day. 
He  heard  this  prelude  and  he  said  to  them, 
"  It  is  not  an  affair."    "  Fear  not,"  they  said, 
"  For  they  will  put  you  also  in  the  song." 

He's  tickled  by  the  urchins'  eulogies, 

Who  praise  him  as  the  master  of  chicane. 

"  'Tis  finished  now  for  thee  to  climb  up  masts." 

They  add :    "  You're  but  a  laughing-stock  for  all. 

You've  stayed  here  long  enough.    You'd  better  go 

And  teach  Sahary  oxen  how  to  read ! " 

When  I  recited  all  these  lines  to  Sy 

Mahomet  Oulyd  el-Isnam,  who  has 

To  the  supreme  degree  the  gift  of  being 

A  bore  he  said  to  me,  "  Now  this  is  song 

Most  flat."    The  mice  in  droves  within  his  shop 

Have  eaten  an  ounce  of  wool. 


202  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

He  is  installed 

Within  the  chamber  of  El  Boukhary. 
In  posture  of  a  student,  in  his  hands 
Some  sky-blue  wool.    "  It  is,"  he  says,  "  to  make 
Some  socks  for  little  children,  for  I  have 
But  little  wool." 

When  I  had  finished  quite 
This  dittyramb,  and  El-Had j-ben-er-Rebha 
Became  acquainted  with  it,  he  began 
To  laugh,  telling  his  beads  the  while,  and  then 
His  decoration  from  his  wallet  took, 
Which  had  been  there  enclosed. 

My  song  spread  wide. 
They  found  it  savory.    Respected  sirs, 
It  is  the  latest  Friday  in  the  month 
Of  El  Mouloud  and  in  the  year  we  call 
Twelve  hundred  ninety-four,  that  I  complete 
This  tale  fantastic. 

Would  you  know  my  name  ? 
I  am  Qaddour,  well  known  to  all  the  world, 
Binder  to  Sydy  Bou  Gdour,  and  attired 
In  gechchabyya-blouse.    And  if  my  back 
Were  not  deformed,  none  could  compete  with  me. 

They  told  me,  "  When  those  folk  come  back  again 
Thou'd  better  hide  thyself  for  fear  of  harm. 
They'll  break  thy  hump  and  send  thee  home  to  heaven." 
"  Oh,  I'll  protect  myself,"  I  said,  "  or  else  complain 
To  the  police." 

If  I  were  not  so  busy 
I'd  still  have  many  other  things  to  say. 
Those  who  have  heard  my  prattle  say  it's  good; 
So  say  the  singers  and  musicians,  too, 
Ez  Zohra  ben-el-Foul  among  them,  who 
Pays  compliments  to  me,  from  window-seat. 

He  who  hath  nothing  found  that's  useful  here 
Will  find  in  this  my  song  what  suits  him  best. 


SONG   OF   FATIMA  203 

But  if  he  wants  to  see  here  something  more, 

Then  stretch  him  'neath  the  stick  and  give  him  straight 

A  thousand  blows  upon  the  belly ;  then 

Take  him  away  to  the  physician,  who 

Will  bleed  him  well. 

And  now  may  hearts  not  be 
Made  sad  by  what  I  have  so  lightly  said. 
I've  placed  myself  among  you,  so  that  I 
May  not  incur  your  blame,  O  brothers  mine. 
I've  told  you  my  deformity,  and  all 
My  miseries  unveiled  before  your  gaze. 


SONG  OF  FATIMA* 

My  spirit  is  in  pain,  for  it  cannot 

Forget  my  sweet  gazelle,  with  eyes  so  black. 

A  fire  burns  in  my  heart,  and  all  my  frame 

But  wastes  and  withers.    Where's  thy  cure,  O  Taleb  ? 

I  find  no  medicine  that  cureth  love, 
In  vain  I  search.    Sweet  Fatima's  the  cause 
Of  all  nay  woes,  with  khelkal  tinted  blue. 
My  heart  endureth  passion's  pangs,  my  grief 
Continues.    Where's  thy  remedy,  O  Taleb? 
Thy  remedy  is  lost,  my  good  Lord  Taleb. 

Pray  God  for  me,  O  Taleb,  I  implore. 

But  how  to  cure  the  malady  of  love? 

There  is  no  remedy,  and  all  is  lost. 

I  die  for  lack  of  strength  to  bear  my  trials. 

It  is  to  thee  that  I  intrust  myself, 

The  healer  who  must  bring  rest  to  my  heart ; 

For  now  a  living  brand  burns  in  my  breast. 

If  thou  art  skilful,  find  a  cure  for  me. 

*  This   elegy   is  the   work   of   a  cele-  a  son,  Ben  Medien,  a  poet,  too,  and  his 

brated    sheik    of    Tlemcen,     Mahomet-  descendants  still  live,  near  Tlemcen,  in 

Ben-Sahla,    whose  period   was   the   first  a  village  called  Feddan-es-Seba. 
half  of  the  eighteenth  century.    He  left 


204  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Look  in  thy  book  and  calculate  for  me 
If  thou  canst  quench  the  burning  brand  within. 
I  will  become  thy  slave,  and  thou  may'st  keep 
Me  or  at  auction  sell.     Where  is  thy  cure! 
Thy  remedy  is  lost,  my  good  Lord  Taleb. 

The  Taleb  looked  at  me  and  said :    "  Take  heart, 
O  lover,  courage!    Thou  hast  sipped,  I  see, 
The  cup  of  death  already,  and  thou  hast 
Not  long  to  live.    But  hear  my  counsel  now. 
Have  patience!     'Tis  the  only  thing  that  will 
Sustain  thee.    Thou  shalt  thus  obtain  the  gifts 
Of  Him  who  only  knows  thy  future  days. 
Thy  fate  shall  be  unrolled  according  to 
The  will  of  God,  the  sovereign  Lord  most  high. 

"  Turn  to  thy  God.    Beseech  him  constantly. 

He  hears  with  mercy  and  he  knows  all  souls. 

He  turns  away  no  one  who  comes  to  him. 

He  sees  the  bottom  of  their  hearts,  and  lists. 

Bear  his  decrees  with  patience  camels  show. 

They  walk  from  land  to  land  and  hope  to  lose 

At  last  their  burdens."    Where's  thy  cure,  O  Taleb? 

Thy  remedy  is  lost,  my  good  Lord  Taleb. 

0  Taleb,  search  within  thy  book  and  find 
The  letters  that  give  birth  to  friendship  sweet. 
Write  them  for  me,  and  skilful  be,  I  pray, 

So  God  may  give  me  happiness  by  them, 
And  cause  my  dear  gazelle  to  pardon  me, 
And  drive  my  bitter  sorrows  all  away. 
My  punishment  too  long  has  lasted.    I 
Am  tired  of  waiting.     Never  was  adventure 
More  strange  than  mine. 

My  cares  continue,  and 

1  am  fatigued  with  efforts  obstinate. 
The  trouble  that  I've  taken  to  deserve 
That  pretty  one,  has  been  for  me  like  that 
Of  daring  merchant  who  doth  undertake 
A  venture  and  gets  nothing  back  but  loss 


SONG   OF    FATIMA  205 

And  weariness.    Where  is  thy  cure,  O  Taleb? 
Thy  remedy  is  lost,  my  good  Lord  Taleb. 

The  Taleb  answered  unto  me  and  said: 

"  Support  her  rigors.    Listen  now  to  me, 

And  I  will  give  thee  counsel  sound  and  good. 

Turn  thy  true  heart  aside  from  memory. 

Forget  thy  love  as  she's  forgotten  thee. 

Courage !    Her  loss  now  wastes  and  makes  thee  pale. 

For  her  thou  hast  neglected  everything, 

And  sacrificed  a  good  part  of  thy  days. 

"  My  counsels  heed  and  turn  me  not  aside. 
Hear  what  sages  in  their  proverbs  say: 
'  That  which  is  bitter  never  can  turn  sweet.' 
'  Leave  him  whose  intercourse  is  troublesome, 
And  cleave  to  one  who  hath  an  easy  way/ 
*  Endure  the  pangs  of  love  until  they  pass,' " 
Where  is  thy  cure,  O  Taleb?    Tell  me  where. 
Thy  remedy  is  lost,  O  good  Lord  Taleb. 

If  thou  art  powerful,  Taleb,  my  excuse 
Accept,  and  give  assistance  to  my  cause. 
Thy  words  are  all  in  vain,  they  but  increase 
My  woes.    For  ne'er  can  I  forget  my  love, 
My  dear  accomplished  beauty.    While  I  live, 
I  love  her,  queen  of  beauties,  and  she  is 
Soul  of  my  soul,  light  of  my  eyes,  my  sweet. 

And,  oh,  how  grows  my  love !    A  slave  I'd  be, 
Obedient  to  a  man  despised.    Perhaps 
That  which  is  far  removed,  the  nearest  comes. 
And  if  the  moment  comes,  thou  know'st  it  well 
Who  knoweth  all  the  proverbs !    He  that's  well 
Shall  perish,  and  the  invalid  be  cured. 
Where  is  thy  cure,  O  Taleb  ?    Tell  me  where. 
Thy  remedy  is  lost,  my  good  Lord  Taleb. 

And  then  the  Taleb  answered  him  and  said: 

"  Thou'rt  taken  in  the  snares  of  Qeys — thou  know'st. 

He  laid  strong  siege  to  Leyla's  heart  and  then 


206  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Awaited  trembling  at  the  trysting-place. 
Thou  now  hast  wooed  thy  love  for  two  long  years 
And  she  will  not  relent,  nor  speak  to  thee. 
God  bless  us  both !  " 

The  Lord  is  generous. 

He  sees.    If  trouble  comes,  he'll  make  it  pass. 
My  lot  is  sad  and  I  am  full  of  fear. 
The  mountains  tall  would  melt  and  turn  to  sand 
If  I  to  them  my  sorrows  should  relate. 
Where  is  thy  cure,  O  Taleb  ?    Tell  me  where. 
Thy  remedy  is  lost,  O  good  Lord  Taleb. 

0  Taleb,  should  I  tell  my  tale  of  grief 
Unto  a  sabre  of  the  Ind,  'twould  melt 
On  hearing  my  laments.    My  heart  cannot 
Endure  these  tortures,  and  my  breast's  on  fire. 

My  tale  is  finished,  here  I  end  my  song, 
And  publish  forth  my  name  along  with  it ; 
It  is  Ben  Sahla.    I  do  not  conceal 
How  I  am  called,  and  in  my  black  despair 

1  do  not  cease  my  lamentations  loud. 

O  ye  who  have  experienced  the  stings 
Of  love,  excuse  me  now  and  blame  me  not 
In  this  affair.    I  know  that  I  shall  die, 
O'ercome  by  woe.    The  doctor  of  my  heart 
Protracts  my  suffering.    He  cures  me  not, 
Nor  yet  cuts  short  the  thread  of  my  sad  life. 
Where  is  thy  cure,  O  Taleb?    Tell  me  where. 
Thy  remedy  is  lost,  O  good  Lord  Taleb. 


THE   CITY   GIRL  AND   THE   COUNTRY   GIRL         207 


THE  CITY  GIRL  AND  THE  COUNTRY  GIRL 

0  thou  who  hearest  me,  I  will  recite 
One  of  these  stories  I  am  master  of — 

A  tale  that's  true.    By  these  I  move  the  hearts 
Of  lovers  like  to  thee,  and  I  divert 
Their  minds  with  pleasant  stories.    As  I  hear, 
So  I  relate  them,  and  they  please  my  friends, 
By  flow  of  wit  and  eloquence  of  thought. 

1  tell  of  beauties'  battle.    And  my  song 

Is  written  in  perfection,  straight  and  clear. 

Thinking  of  naught  I  walked  along  one  day 

When  I  had  gone  to  see  some  beauties  fair 

Whose  like  I  ne'er  have  seen  in  city  nor 

In  country  yet.    I  should  have  said 

That  they  were  sun  and  moon,  and  that  the  girls 

Of  that  time  were  bright  stars  surpassing  far 

The  Pleiades.    The  stars  are  envious 

In  their  far  firmaments,  each  of 

The  other.    That's  the  reason  why  we  see 

Eclipses  of  the  sun  and  moon. 

My  tale 

Is  true.  The  women,  like  unto  the  stars, 
Are  jealous  also.  Two  young  virgins  met 
The  day  I  saw  them,  a  sad  day  for  them, 
For  one  was  jealous  of  the  other  one. 

The  citizeness  said  to  the  Bedouine: 
"  Look  at  thy  similars  and  thou  shalt  see 
In  them  but  rustics,  true  dogs  of  the  camp. 
Now  what  art  thou  beside  a  city  girl  ? 
Thou  art  a  Bedouine.    Dost  thou  not  dream 
Of  goat-skin  bottles  to  be  filled  at  dawn  ? 
And  loads  of  wood  that  thou  must  daily  cut  ? 
And  how  thou'rt  doomed  to  turn  the  mill  all  night, 
Fatigued,  harassed  ?    Thy  feet,  unshod,  are  chapped 
And  full  of  cracks.    Thy  head  can  never  feel 
The  solace  of  uncovering,  and  thou, 


, 


2o8  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

All  broken  with  fatigue,  must  go  to  sleep 

Upon  the  ground,  in  soot  and  dust  to  lie, 

Just  like  a  serpent  coiled  upon  himself. 

Thy  covering  is  the  tatters  of  old  tents, 

Thy  pillow  is  the  stones  upon  the  hearth. 

All  clad  in  rags  thoii  hast  a  heavy  sleep 

Awaking  to  another  stupid  day. 

Such  is  the  life  of  all  you  country  folk. 

What  art  thou  then  compared  to  those  who  live 

In  shade  of  walls,  who  have  their  mosques  for  prayer 

Where  questions  are  discussed  and  deeds  are  drawn  ?  " 

The  Arab  woman  to  the  city  girl 

Replied :  "  Get  out !    Thou'rt  like  a  caverned  owl. 

And  who  art  thou  beside  the  Arab  girls, 

The  daughters  of  those  tribes  whose  standards  wave 

Above  brave  bands  of  horsemen  as  they  speed  ? 

Look  at  thy  similars.    The  doctor  ne'er 

Can  leave  their  side.    Without  an  illness  known 

They're  faded,  pale,  and  sallow.     The  harsh  lime 

Hath  filled  thy  blood  with  poison.    Thou  art  dead, 

Although  thou  seem'st  alive.    Thou  ne'er  hast  seen 

Our  noble  Arabs  and  their  feats  of  strength, 

Who  to  the  deserts  bring  prosperity 

By  their  sharp  swords !    If  thou  could'st  see  our  tribe 

When  all  the  horsemen  charge  a  hostile  band, 

Armed  with  bright  lances  and  with  shields  to  break 

The  enemy's  strong  blow !    Those  who  are  like 

To  them  are  famed  afar  and  glorified. 

They're  generous  hosts  and  men  of  nature  free. 

Within  the  mosques  they've  built  and  lodgings  made 

For  tolba  and  for  guests.    All  those  who  come 

To  visit  them,  bear  gifts  away,  and  give 

Them  praises.     Why  should  they  reside  in  town 

Where  everything's  with  price  of  silver  bought? 

The  city  girl  replied :  "  Oh,  Bedouine, 
Thou  dost  forget  all  that  thou  hast  to  do. 
Thou  go'st  from  house  to  house,  with  artichokes 
And  mallows,  oyster-plants,  and  such, 


THE   CITY   GIRL  AND   THE   COUNTRY   GIRL         209 

Thy  garments  soaked  all  through  and  through  with  grease. 

This  is  thy  daily  life.    I  do  not  speak 

Of  what  is  hid  from  view.    Thy  slanders  cease ! 

What  canst  thou  say  of  me?    Better  than  thee 

I  follow  all  the  precepts  of  the  Sonna 

And  note  more  faithfully  the  sacred  hours. 

Hid  by  my  veil  no  eye  hath  seen  my  face : 

I'm  not  like  thee,  forever  in  the  field. 

I've  streets  to  go  on  when  I  walk  abroad. 

What  art  thou,  then,  beside  me?    I  heard  not 

The  cows  and  follow  them  about  all  day. 

Thou  eatest  sorrel  wild  and  heart  of  dwarf 

Palm-tree.    Thy  feet  are  tired  with  walking  far, 

And  thy  rough  hands  with  digging  in  the  earth." 

"  Now  what  impels  you,  and  what  leads  you  on," 

The  country  girl  of  city  girl  inquired, 

"  To  outrage  us  like  this  and  say  such  words 

Against  us,  you  who  are  the  very  worst 

Of  creatures,  in  whom  all  the  vices  are 

Assembled?    You  are  wicked  sinners  all, 

And  Satan  would  not  dare  to  tell  your  deeds. 

You  are  all  witches.    And  you  would  betray 

Your  brother,  not  to  speak  of  husbands.    You 

Walk  all  unguarded  in  the  street  alone, 

Against  your  husband's  will.    And  you  deny 

Your  holy  faith.    The  curse  of  heav'n  will  weigh 

Upon  you  when  you  go  to  meet  your  God. 

Not  one  of  you  is  honest.    O  ye  blind 

Who  do  not  wish  to  see,  whence  comes  your  blindness  ? 

You  violate  the  law  divine,  and  few 

Among  you  fear  the  Lord.    'Tis  in  the  country, 

Amid  the  fields,  that  women  worship  God. 

Why  say'st  thou  that  the  city  women  sole 

Are  pious  ?    Canst  thou  say  my  prayers  for  me  ?  " 

"  What  pleasure  have  the  country  girls  ?  "  replied 
The  city  girl.    "  They've  no  amusements  there. 
There's  nothing  to  divert  the  eyes.    Their  hands 
They  do  not  stain  with  henna,  setting  off 
14 


210  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

A  rounded  arm.    Rich  costumes  they  wear  not, 
Which  cost  some  hundred  silver  pieces  each, 
Nor  numerous  garments  decked  with  precious  stones. 
They  are  not  coifed  with  kerchiefs  of  foulard 
With  flowers  brocaded.    Neither  have  they  veils 
Nor  handkerchiefs  of  silk  and  broidered  gold. 
They  never  have  a  negress  nurse  to  bring 
Their  children  up  and  run  on  services 
Throughout  the  house.    And  yet  they  boast  as  loud 
As  any  braggart.    Why  bring'st  thou  the  charge 
That  I  a  blameful  life  do  lead,  whilst  thine 
Deserves  reproof?    Dirt  in  the  country  holds 
Supreme  control.    The  water's  scarce  enough 
To  drink,  with  none  left  for  the  bath.    The  ground 
Serves  you  as  bed,  and  millet  is  your  food, 
Or  rotten  wheat  and  barley." 

Then  took  up 

The  word,  and  spoke  the  Arab  woman  dark : 
"Who  are  thy  ancestors?    Which  is  thy  tribe 
Among  all  those  that  fill  the  mighty  world  ? 
You're  only  Beny  Leqyt,  and  the  scum 
Of  people  of  all  sorts.    Thou  call'st  thyself 
A  city  woman.    What  are  city  men  ? 
Thy  lords  don't  slander  folk.     'Tis  only  those 
Who  come  whence  no  one  knows  who  have  so  rude 
A  tongue.    Thou  wouldst  insult  me,  thou,  of  stock 
Like  thine,  with  such  a  name  abroad !    And  thou 
Wouldst  taunt  a  Qorechyte,  a  Hachemite 
Of  glorious  ancestors  who  earned  their  fame. 
'Tis  proper  for  a  woman  born  of  such 
A  stock  illustrious  to  vaunt  herself 
Upon  her  origin.    But  thou,  a  vile 
Descendant  of  a  conquered  race ! 

"  Thou  call'st 

Thyself  a  Sunnite,  yet  thou  knowest  not 
The  three  great  things  their  Author  gave  to  us : 
(He  knows  all  secrets.)     First  is  Paradise, 
Then  the  Koran,  and  then  our  Prophet  great, 


THE   CITY   GIRL   AND   THE   COUNTRY   GIRL         211 

Destroyer  of  false  faiths  and  for  all  men 
The  interceder.    Whosoe'er  loves  him 
Doth  love  the  Arabs,  too,  and  cleaves  to  them. 
And  whosoe'er  hates  them  hates,  too,  in  truth, 
The  chosen  one  of  God.    Thou  hatest  him, 
For  thou  revil'st  my  ancestors,  and  seek'st 
To  lower  their  rank  and  vilify  their  fame. 
Think  on  thine  evil  deeds,  against  the  day 
When  in  thy  grave  thou'lt  lie,  and  that  one,  too, 
When  thou  shalt  rise  again,  insulter  of 
The  Arabs,  king  of  peoples  on  the  earth." 

"  The  Arabs  I  do  not  at  all  despise," 

The  city  woman  said,  "  nor  yet  decry 

Their  honor,  and  'tis  only  on  account 

Of  thee  I  spoke  against  them.    But  'tis  thou 

Who  hast  insulted  all  my  family,  and  placed 

Thy  race  above.    He  who  begins  is  e'er 

At  fault,  and  not  the  one  who  follows.    Thou 

The  quarrel  didst  commence.    Pray  God,  our  Lord, 

To  pardon  me,  as  I  will  pray  him,  too, 

And  I  the  Arabs  will  no  more  attack. 

If  they  offend  me  I  will  pardon  them 

And  like  them  for  our  holy  prophet's  sake. 

I  shall  awake  in  Paradise  some  day. 

From  them  'tis  given,  far  beyond  all  price. 

Frankly,  I  love  them  more  than  I  do  love 

Myself.    I  love  them  from  my  very  heart. 

He  who  a  people  loveth  shall  arise 

With  them.    And  here's  an  end  to  all  our  words 

Of  bickering  and  mutual  abuse." 

I  told  them  that  it  was  my  duty  plain 
To  reconcile  them.     I  accorded  both 
Of  them  most  pure  intentions.    Then  I  sent 
Them  home,  and  made  agreeable  the  way. 
Their  cares  I  drove  away  with  honeyed  words. 
I  have  composed  the  verses  of  this  piece, 
With  sense  more  delicate  than  rare  perfume 
Of  orange-flower  or  than  sugar  sweet, 


212  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

For  those  kind  hearts  who  know  how  to  forgive. 
As  for  the  evil-minded,  they  should  feel 
The  seqqoum.    With  the  flowers  of  rhetoric 
My  song  is  ornamented :  like  the  breast 
Of  some  fair  virgin  all  bedecked  with  stones 
Which  shine  like  bright  stars  in  the  firmament. 
Some  of  its  words  will  seem  severe  to  those 
Who  criticise.    I  culled  them  like  unto 
A  nosegay  in  the  garden  of  allusions. 
May  men  of  lion  hearts  and  spirit  keen — 
Beloved  by  God  and  objects  of  his  care — 
Receive  my  salutations  while  they  live, 
My  countless  salutations. 

I  should  let 

My  name  be  known  to  him  who's  subject  to 
The  Cherfa  and  obeys  their  mighty  power. 
The  mym  precedes,  then  comes  the  written  ha. 
The  mym  and  dal  complete  the  round  and  make 
It  comprehensible  to  him  who  reads 
Mahomet.    May  God  pardon  me  this  work 
So  frivolous,  and  also  all  my  faults 
And  errors.    I  place  confidence  in  him, 
Creator  of  all  men,  with  pardon  free 
For  all  our  sins,  and  in  his  mercy  trust, 
Because  he  giveth  it  to  him  who  seeks. 

The  country  girl  and  city  girl  appeared 
Before  the  judge,  demanding  sentence  just. 
In  fierce  invectives  for  a  while  they  joined, 
But  after  all  I  left  them  reconciled. 


POPULAR  TALESOF  THE  BERBERS 


[Translated  by  Rene  Basset  and  Chauncey  C.  Starkweather'] 


POPULAR  TALES  OF  THE  BERBERS 

STORIES  OF  ANIMALS 
THE  TURTLE,  THE  FROG,  AND  THE  SERPENT 

ONCE  upon  a  time  the  turtle  married  a  frog.     One  day 
they  quarrelled.    The  frog  escaped  and  withdrew  into 
a  hole.    The  turtle  was  troubled  and  stood  in  front 
of  his  door  very  much  worried.     In  those  days  the  animals 
spoke.     The  griffin  came  by  that  way  and  said :     "  What  is 
the  matter  with  you?     You  look  worried  this  morning." 

"  Nothing  ails  me,"  answered  the  turtle,  "  except  that  the 
frog  has  left  me." 

The  griffin  replied,  "  I'll  bring  him  back." 
"  You  will  do  me  a  great  favor." 

The  griffin  took  up  his  journey  and  arrived  at  the  hole  of 
the  frog.  He  scratched  at  the  door. 

The  frog  heard  him  and  asked,  "  Who  dares  to  rap  at  the 
door  of  a  king's  daughter?" 

"  It  is  I,  the  griffin,  son  of  a  griffin,  who  lets  no  carrion 
escape  him." 

"  Get  out  of  here,  among  your  corpses.  I,  a  daughter  of 
the  King,  will  not  go  with  you." 

He  departed  immediately. 

The  next  day  the  vulture  came  along  by  the  turtle  and  found 
it  worrying  before  its  door,  and  asked  what  was  the  trouble. 
It  answered :  "  The  frog  has  gone  away." 

"  I'll  bring  her  back,"  said  the  vulture. 

"  You  will  do  me  a  great  favor." 

The  vulture  started,  and  reaching  the  frog's  house  began 
to  beat  its  wings. 

The  frog  said :  "  Who  comes  to  the  east  to  make  a  noise 
at  the  house  of  the  daughter  of  kings,  and  will  not  let  her 
sleep  at  her  ease?" 

215 


2I6  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

"  It  is  I,  the  vulture,  son  of  a  vulture,  who  steals  chicks 
from  under  her  mother." 

The  frog  replied :  "  Get  away  from  here,  father  of  the  dung- 
hill. You  are  not  the  one  to  conduct  the  daughter  of  a  king." 

The  vulture  was  angry  and  went  away  much  disturbed.  He 
returned  to  the  turtle  and  said :  "  The  frog  refuses  to  come 
back  with  me.  Seek  someone  else  who  can  enter  her  hole 
and  make  her  come  out.  Then  I  will  bring  her  back  even  if 
she  won't  walk." 

The  turtle  went  to  seek  the  serpent,  and  when  he  had  found 
him  he  began  to  weep.  "  I'm  the  one  to  make  her  come  out," 
said  the  serpent.  He  quickly  went  before  the  hole  of  the 
frog  and  scratched  at  the  door. 

"  What  is  the  name  of  this  other  one  ?  "  asked  the  frog. 

"  It  is  I,  the  serpent,  son  of  the  serpent.  Come  out  or  I'll 
enter." 

"  Wait  awhile  until  I  put  on  my  best  clothes,  gird  my  girdle, 
rub  my  lips  with  nut-shells,  put  some  koheul  in  my  eyes ;  then 
I  will  go  with  you." 

"  Hurry  up,"  said  the  serpent.  Then  he  waited  a  little 
while.  Finally  he  got  angry,  entered  her  house,  and  swal- 
lowed her.  Ever  since  that  time  the  serpent  has  been  at  war 
with  the  frog.  Whenever  he  sees  one  he  chases  her  and  eats 
her. 

THE  HEDGEHOG,  THE  JACKAL,  AND  THE  LION 

Once  upon  a  time  the  jackal  went  in  search  of  the  hedge- 
hog and  said  to  it :  "  Come  along.  I  know  a  garden  of 
onions.  We  will  fill  our  bellies." 

"  How  many  tricks  have  you  ?  "  asked  the  hedgehog. 

"  I  have  a  hundred  and  one." 

"  And  I,"  said  the  other,  "  have  one  and  a  half." 

They  entered  the  garden  and  ate  a  good  deal.  The  hedge- 
hog ate  a  little  and  then  went  to  see  if  he  could  get  out  of  the 
entrance  or  not.  When  he  had  eaten  enough  so  that  he  could 
just  barely  slip  out,  he  stopped  eating.  As  for  the  jackal,  he 
never  stopped  eating  until  he  was  swollen  very  much. 

As  these  things  were  going  on,  the  owner  of  the  garden 
arrived.  The  hedgehog  saw  him  and  said  to  his  companion : 


THE   HEDGEHOG,   THE  JACKAL,   AND   THE   LION     217 

"  Escape !  the  master  is  coming."  He  himself  took  flight. 
But  in  spite  of  his  exhortations  the  jackal  couldn't  get  through 
the  opening.  "  It  is  impossible,"  he  said. 

"  Where  are  those  one  hundred  and  one  tricks  ?  They  don't 
serve  you  now." 

"  May  God  have  mercy  on  your  parents,  my  uncle,  lend  me 
your  half  a  trick."  "  Lie  down  on  the  ground,"  answered  the 
hedgehog.  "  Play  dead,  shut  your  mouth,  stretch  out  your 
paws  as  if  you  were  dead,  until  the  master  of  the  garden  shall 
see  it  and  cast  you  into  the  street,  and  then  you  can  run  away." 

On  that  the  hedgehog  departed.  The  jackal  lay  down  as 
he  had  told  him  until  the  owner  of  the  garden  came  with  his 
son  and  saw  him  lying  as  if  dead.  The  child  said  to  his  father: 

"  Here  is  a  dead  jackal.  He  filled  his  belly  with  onions 
until  he  died." 

Said  the  man,  "  Go,  drag  him  outside." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  child,  and  he  took  him  and  stuck  a  thorn 
into  him. 

"  Hold  on,  enough !  "  said  the  jackal.  "  They  play  with 
reeds,  but  this  is  not  sport." 

The  child  ran  to  his  father  and  said,  "  The  jackal  cried  out, 
'A  reed!  a  reed!'" 

The  father  went  and  looked  at  the  animal,  which  feigned 
death.  "  Why  do  you  tell  me  that  it  still  lives?  " 

"  It  surely  does." 

"  Come  away  and  leave  that  carrion."  The  child  stuck 
another  thorn  into  the  jackal,  which  cried,  "  What,  again  ?  " 
The  child  went  to  his  father.  "  He  has  just  said,  '  What, 
again?'" 

"  Come  now,"  said  the  man,  and  he  sent  away  his  son.  The 
latter  took  the  jackal  by  the  motionless  tail  and  cast  him  into 
the  street.  Immediately  the  animal  jumped  up  and  started  to 
run  away.  The  child  threw  after  him  his  slippers.  The  jackal 
took  them,  put  them  on,  and  departed. 

On  the  way  he  met  the  lion,  who  said,  "  What  is  that  foot- 
wear, my  dear  ?  " 

"  You  don't  know,  my  uncle  ?  I  am  a  shoemaker.  My 
father,  my  uncle,  my  mother,  my  brother,  my  sister,  and  the 
little  girl  who  was  born  at  our  house  last  night  are  all  shoe- 
makers." 


2i8  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

"  Won't  you  make  me  a  pair  of  shoes  ?  "  replied  the  lion. 

"  I  will  make  you  a  pair.  Bring  me  two  fat  camels.  I  will 
skin  them  and  make  you  some  good  shoes." 

The  lion  went  away  and  brought  the  two  fat  camels.  "  They 
are  thin,"  said  the  jackal.  "  Go  change  them  for  others." 

He  brought  two  thin  ones. 

"  They  are  fat,"  said  the  jackal.  He  skinned  them,  cut  some 
thorns  from  a  palm-tree,  rolled  the  leather  around  the  lion's 
paws  and  fastened  it  there  with  the  thorns. 

"  Ouch !  "  screamed  the  lion. 

"  He  who  wants  to  look  finely  ought  not  to  say, '  Ouch.'  " 

"  Enough,  my  dear." 

"  My  uncle,  I  will  give  you  the  rest  of  the  slippers  and  boots." 
He  covered  the  lion's  skin  with  the  leather  and  stuck  in  the 
thorns.  When  he  reached  the  knees,  "  Enough,  my  dear," 
said  the  lion.  "  What  kind  of  shoes  are  those  ?  " 

"  Keep  still,  my  uncle,  these  are  slippers,  boots,  breeches, 
and  clothes." 

When  he  came  to  the  girdle  the  lion  said,  "  What  kind  of 
shoes  are  those  ?  " 

"  My  uncle,  they  are  slippers,  boots,  breeches,  and  clothing." 
In  this  way  he  reached  the  lion's  neck.  "  Stay  here,"  he  said, 
"  until  the  leather  dries.  When  the  sun  rises  look  it  in  the 
face.  When  the  moon  rises,  too,  look  it  in  the  face." 

"  It  is  good,"  said  the  lion,  and  the  jackal  went  away. 

The  lion  remained  and  did  as  his  companion  had  told  him. 
But  his  feet  began  to  swell,  the  leather  became  hard,  and  he 
could  not  get  up.  When  the  jackal  came  back  he  asked  him, 
"  How  are  you,  my  uncle?  " 

"  How  am  I  ?  Wretch,  son  of  a  wretch,  you  have  deceived 
me.  Go,  go ;  I  will  recommend  you  to  my  children." 

The  jackal  came  near  and  the  lion  seized  him  by  the  tail. 
The  jackal  fled,  leaving  his  tail  in  the  lion's  mouth. 

"  Now,"  said  the  lion,  "  you  have  no  tail.  When  my  feet 
get  well  I  will  catch  you  and  eat  you  up." 

The  jackal  called  his  cousins  and  said  to  them,  "  Let  us  go 
and  fill  our  bellies  with  onions  in  a  garden  that  I  know."  They 
went  with  him.  Arriving  he  tied  their  tails  to  the  branches 
of  a  young  palm-tree,  and  twisted  them  well.  "  Who  has 
tied  our  tails  like  this  ?  "  they  asked.  "  No  one  will  come  be- 


THE   HEDGEHOG,   THE  JACKAL,   AND   THE   LION     219 

fore  you  have  filled  your  bellies.  If  you  see  the  master  of  the 
garden  approach,  struggle  and  fly.  You  see  that  I,  too,  am 
bound  as  you  are."  But  he  had  tied  an  onion-stalk  on  him- 
self. When  the  owner  of  the  garden  arrived,  the  jackal  saw 
him  coming.  They  struggled,  their  tails  were  all  torn  out, 
and  stayed  behind  with  the  branches  to  which  they  were  fast- 
ened. When  the  jackal  saw  the  man,  he  cut  the  onion  stem 
and  escaped  the  first  of  all. 

As  for  the  lion,  when  his  feet  were  cured,  he  went  to  take  a 
walk  and  met  his  friend  the  jackal.  He  seized  him  and  said, 
"  Now  I've  got  you,  son  of  a  wretch." 

The  other  answered,  "  What  have  I  done,  my  uncle  ?  " 

"  You  stuck  thorns  in  my  flesh.  You  said  to  me,  '  I  will 
make  you  some  shoes.'  Now  what  shall  I  do  to  you  ?  " 

"  It  was  not  I,"  said  the  jackal. 

"  It  was  you,  and  the  proof  is  that  you  have  your  tail  cut 
off." 

"  But  all  my  cousins  are  without  tails,  like  me." 

"  You  lie,  joker." 

"  Let  me  call  them  and  you  will  see." 

"  Call  them." 

At  his  call  the  jackals  ran  up,  all  without  tails. 

"Which  of  you  is  a  shoemaker?"  asked  the  lion. 

"All  of  us,"  they  answered. 

He  said  to  them :  "  I  am  going  to  bring  you  some  red 
pepper.  You  shall  eat  of  it,  and  the  one  who  says,  '  Ouch ! ' 
that  will  be  the  one  I'm  looking  for." 

"  Go  and  get  it." 

He  brought  them  some  red  pepper,  and  they  were  going  to 
eat  it  when  the  first  jackal  made  a  noise  with  his  shoes,  but  he 
said  to  the  lion,  "  My  uncle,  I  did  not  say,  '  Ouch ! ' "  The 
lion  sent  them  away,  and  they  went  about  their  business. 


220  MOORISH    LITERATURE 


THE  STOLEN  WOMAN 

It  is  related  that  a  man  of  the  Onlad  Draabad  married  his 
cousin,  whom  he  loved  greatly.  He  possessed  a  single  slave 
and  some  camels.  Fearing  lest  someone  should  carry  off  his 
wife  on  account  of  her  beauty,  he  resolved  to  take  her  to  a 
place  where  no  one  should  see  her.  He  started,  therefore, 
with  his  slave,  his  camels,  and  his  wife,  and  proceeded  night 
and  day  until  he  arrived  at  the  shore  of  the  great  salt  sea, 
knowing  that  nobody  would  come  there. 

One  day  when  he  had  gone  out  to  see  his  camels  and  his 
slave,  leaving  his  wife  alone  in  the  tent,  she  saw  a  ship  that 
had  just  then  arrived.  It  had  been  sent  by  a  sultan  of  a  far 
country,  to  seek  in  the  islands  of  the  salt  sea  a  more  beautiful 
wife  for  him  than  the  women  of  his  land.  The  woman  in  the 
tent,  seeing  that  the  ship  would  not  come  first  to  her,  went 
out  first  in  front.  The  people  said  to  her,  "  Come  on  board 
in  order  to  see  the  whole  ship."  She  went  aboard.  Finding 
her  to  be  just  the  one  for  whom  they  were  seeking,  they  seized 
her  and  took  her  to  their  Sultan.  On  his  return,  the  husband, 
not  finding  his  wife,  realized  that  she  had  been  stolen.  He 
started  to  find  the  son  of  Keij,  the  Christian.  Between  them 
there  existed  a  friendship.  The  son  of  Keij  said  to  him: 
"  Bring  a  ship  and  seven  men,  whose  guide  I  will  be  on  the 
sea.  They  need  not  go  astray  nor  be  frightened.  The  city 
is  three  or  four  months'  journey  from  here."  They  set  sail  in 
a  ship  to  find  the  city,  and  were  on  the  way  the  time  that  he 
had  said. 

Arriving  they  cast  their  anchor  near  the  city,  which  was  at 
the  top  of  a  high  mountain.  Their  chief  went  ashore  and  saw 
a  fire  lighted  by  someone.  He  went  in  that  direction.  It  was 
an  old  woman,  to  whom  he  told  his  story.  She  gave  him  news 
of  his  wife.  They  agreed  to  keep  silence  between  themselves. 
Then  the  old  woman  added :  "  In  this  place  there  are  two 
birds  that  devour  people.  At  their  side  are  two  lions  like  to 
them,  and  two  men.  All  of  these  keep  guard  over  your  wife." 

He  bought  a  sheep,  which  he  killed;  then  he  went  to  the 
two  birds  and  threw  them  a  part  of  it.  While  they  were  quar- 
relling over  it  he  passed  by  them  and  came  near  to  the  two 


THE   KING,   THE   ARAB,   AND   THE   MONSTER       221 

lions,  to  which  he  did  the  same.  Approaching  the  two  men, 
he  found  them  asleep.  He  went  as  far  as  the  place  where  his 
wife  was  in  prison,  and  attracted  her  attention  by  scratching 
her  foot.  He  was  disguised  and  said  to  her,  "  I  have  sought 
you  to  tell  you  something."  He  took  her  by  the  hand.  They 
both  went  out,  and  he  swore  that  if  she  made  the  slightest 
noise  he  would  kill  her.  He  also  asked  her  which  was  the 
swiftest  boat  for  the  journey.  She  pointed  out  the  best  boat 
there,  and  they  embarked  in  it.  There  were  some  stones  on 
board,  and  when  he  threw  one  at  a  ship  it  was  crushed  from 
stem  to  stern,  and  all  on  board  perished. 

He  started  to  find  the  son  of  Keij.  While  they  were  at  sea 
a  marine  monster  swallowed  them  and  the  ship  on  which  they 
were  sailing.  The  chief  took  some  pitch  and  had  it  boiled  in 
a  kettle.  The  monster  cast  up  the  ship  on  the  shore  of  the 
sea.  They  continued  their  journey,  proceeding  by  the  sea- 
side. 

Behold  one  day  they  came  to  a  deserted  city.  They  desired 
to  take  what  it  contained  of  riches,  silver,  and  gold.  All  of  a 
sudden  the  image  of  an  armed  man  appeared  to  them.  They 
could  not  resist  or  kill  him  at  first,  but  finally  they  destroyed 
him  and  took  all  the  riches  of  the  houses.  When  they  arrived 
near  the  son  of  Keij  he  said  to  them :  "  I  want  only  the  ship." 
So  the  other  man  took  the  treasures  and  returned  home  with 
his  wife. 

THE  KING,  THE  ARAB,  AND  THE  MONSTER 

In  former  times  there  was  a  king  of  the  At  Taberchant  (the 
son  of  a  negress),  whose  city  was  situated  at  the  foot  of  a 
mountain.  An  enormous  beast  came  against  them,  entered 
the  city,  and  devoured  all  the  people.  The  beast  established 
itself  in  the  city  and  stayed  there  a  century.  One  day  it  was 
hungry.  It  came  out  into  the  plain,  found  some  Arabs  with 
their  tents,  their  sheep,  their  oxen,  their  mares,  and  their 
camels.  The  beast  fell  upon  them  in  the  night  and  ate  them 
all  up,  leaving  the  earth  all  white  with  their  bones ;  then  it 
went  back  to  the  city. 

A  single  man  escaped,  thanks  to  his  good  mare.  He  ar- 
rived at  a  city  of  the  At  Taberchant  and,  starving,  began  to 


22a  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

beg.  The  King  of  the  Jews  said  to  him :  "  Whence  do  you 
come  into  our  country — you  who  invoke  the  lord  of  men 
[Mahomet]  ?  You  don't  know  where  you  are.  We  are  Jews. 
If  you  will  embrace  our  religion,  we  will  give  you  food." 

"  Give  me  some  food,"  said  the  Arab,  "  and  I  will  give  you 
some  good  advice." 

The  King  took  him  to  his  house  and  gave  him  some  supper, 
and  then  asked  him  what  he  had  to  say. 

"  An  enormous  monster  has  fallen  upon  us,"  said  the  Arab. 
"  It  ate  up  everybody.  I  will  show  you  its  city.  It  has  two 
gates,  one  at  the  north  and  the  other  at  the  south." 

"  To-morrow,"  said  the  King. 

When  he  awoke  the  next  day,  they  mounted  horses  and  fol- 
lowed the  way  to  the  gate  of  the  monster's  city.  They  looked 
at  it  and  went  away. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  said  the  King. 

"  Let  us  make  a  great  trap  of  the  size  of  the  entrance  to  the 
city,  at  the  southern  gate.  At  the  northern  gate  we  will  place 
a  forty-mule  load  of  yellow  sulphur.  We  will  set  it  on  fire, 
and  then  escape  and  see  what  will  happen." 

"  Your  advice  is  good,"  said  the  King. 

They  returned  to  the  city  of  the  Jews,  ordered  the  smiths 
to  make  a  big  trap  and  commanded  the  citizens  to  furnish  the 
sulphur.  When  all  was  ready,  they  loaded  the  mules,  went 
to  the  monster's  city,  set  the  trap  at  the  southern  gate,  and 
at  the  northern  they  placed  the  sulphur^  which  they  set  on  fire, 
and  then  fled.  The  monster  came  out  by  the  southern  gate. 
Half  of  his  body  was  caught  in  the  trap  that  the  two  men  had 
set.  He  was  cut  in  two,  filling  the  river  with  blood.  The 
King  and  the  Arab  entered  the  city  and  found  a  considerable 
treasure,  which  they  removed  in  eighty  loads  to  the  city  of 
the  Jews.  When  they  had  got  back  to  the  palace  the  King 
said  to  his  companion :  "  Be  my  caliph.  My  fortune  and 
thine  shall  be  the  same." 

They  sat  down  and  had  supper.  The  prince  put  in  the  stew 
some  poison  and  turned  it  to  the  Arab.  The  latter  observed 
what  he  had  done  and  said,  "  Where  did  that  bird  come  from  ?  " 
When  the  King  of  the  Jews  raised  his  head  to  look,  the  Arab 
turned  the  dish  around,  placing  the  poison  side  of  it  in  front 
of  the  King.  He  did  not  perceive  the  trick,  and  died  on  the 


THE   LION,   THE  JACKAL,   AND   THE   MAN  223 

spot.  The  Arab  went  to  the  gate  of  the  city  and  said  to  the 
inhabitants :  "  I  am  your  King.  You  are  in  my  power.  He 
who  will  not  accept  my  religion,  I  will  cut  off  his  head."  They 
all  embraced  Islamism  and  practised  fasting  and  prayer. 


THE  LION,  THE  JACKAL,  AND  THE  MAN 

In  times  past,  when  the  animals  spoke,  there  existed,  they 
say,  a  laborer  who  owned  a  pair  of  oxen,  with  which  he  worked. 
It  was  his  custom  to  start  out  with  them  early  in  the  morning, 
and  in  the  evening  he  returned  with  one  ox.  The  next  day 
he  bought  another  and  went  to  the  fallow  land,  but  the  lion 
came  and  took  one  ox  from  him  and  left  him  only  one.  He 
was  in  despair,  seeking  someone  to  advise  him,  when  he  met 
the  jackal  and  told  him  what  had  taken  place  between  him  and 
the  lion.  The  jackal  demanded: 

"  What  will  you  give  me  if  I  deliver  you  from  the  lion  ?  " 
"  Whatever  you  wish  I  will  give  it  to  you." 
"  Give  me  a  fat  lamb,"  answered  the  jackal.  "  You  will  fol- 
low my  advice.  To-morrow  when  the  lion  comes,  I  will  be 
there.  I  will  arrive  on  that  hill  on  the  other  side.  You  will 
bring  your  axe  very  well  sharpened  and  when  I  say  to  you, 
'  What  is  that  which  I  see  with  you  now  ? '  you  must  answer, 
'  It  is  an  ass  which  I  have  taken  with  me  to  carry  barley.'  I 
will  say  to  you, '  I  am  looking  for  the  lion,  and  not  for  an  ass.' 
Then  he  will  ask  you,  '  Who  is  speaking  to  you  ? '  Answer 
him,  '  It  is  the  nems ! '  He  will  say  to  you,  '  Hide  me,  for  I 
am  afraid  of  him.'  When  I  ask  you,  '  Who  is  that  stretched 
there  before  you  ?  '  answer, '  It  is  a  beaver.'  I  will  say,  '  Take 
your  axe  and  strike,  to  know  if  it  be  not  the  lion.'  You  will 
take  your  axe  and  you  will  strike  the  lion  hard  between  the 
eyes.  Then  I  will  continue :  '  I  have  not  heard  very  well. 
Strike  him  again  once  more  until  he  shall  really  be  dead.'  " 
The  next  day  he  came  to  him  as  before  to  eat  an  ox.  When 
the  jackal  saw  him  he  called  his  friend  and  said,  "  Who  is  that 
with  you?" 

"  It  is  a  beaver  which  is  before  me." 

The  jackal  answered :  "  Where  is  the  lion  ?  I  am  looking 
for  him." 


224  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

"  Who  is  talking  to  you  ?  "  asked  the  lion,  of  the  laborer. 

"  The  '  nems.'  " 

"  Hide  me,"  cried  the  lion,  "  for  I  fear  him." 

The  laborer  said  to  him,  "  Stretch  yourself  out  before  me, 
shut  your  eyes,  and  don't  move."  The  lion  stretched  out  be- 
fore him,  shut  his  eyes,  and  held  his  breath. 

The  peasant  said  to  the  jackal,  "  I  have  not  seen  the  lion 
pass  to-day." 

"  What  is  that  stretched  before  you  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  beaver." 

"  Take  your  axe,"  said  the  jackal,  "  and  strike  that  beaver." 
The  laborer  obeyed  and  struck  the  lion  violently  between  the 
eyes. 

"  Strike  hard,"  said  the  jackal  again ;  "  I  did  not  hear  very 
well." 

He  struck  him  three  or  four  times  more,  until  he  had  killed 
him.  Then  he  called  the  jackal :  "  See,  I  have  killed  him. 
Come,  let  me  embrace  you  for  your  good  advice.  To-morrow 
you  must  come  here  to  get  the  lamb  which  I  will  give  you." 
They  separated  and  each  went  his  way.  As  for  the  peasant, 
the  next  day,  as  soon  as  dawn,  he  took  a  lamb,  put  it  into  a 
sack,  tied  it  up,  went  into  the  court-yard  and  hung  it  up.  Then 
while  he  went  to  get  his  oxen  to  till  his  fields,  at  that  moment, 
his  wife  opened  the  sack,  set  the  lamb  free,  and  replaced  it  by 
a  dog.  The  peasant  took  the  sack  and  went  to  his  work.  He 
attached  his  oxen  and  set  to  work,  till  the  arrival  of  the  jackal. 
The  jackal  said  to  him,  "  Where  is  that  promise  you  made 
me?" 

"  It  is  in  the  sack.  Open  it  and  you'll  find  the  lamb  which 
I  give  you." 

He  followed  his  advice,  opened  the  sack,  and  saw  two  eyes 
which  shone  more  brightly  than  those  of  a  lamb,  and  said  to 
the  laborer,  "  My  friend,  you  have  deceived  me." 

"  How  have  I  deceived  you  ?  "  asked  the  other.  "  As  for 
the  lamb,  I  put  him  in  the  sack.  Open  it  well ;  I  do  not  lie." 

The  jackal  followed  his  advice,  he  opened  the  sack,  a  dog 
jumped  fiercely  out.  When  the  jackal  saw  the  dog  he  ran 
away,  but  the  dog  caught  him  and  ate  him  up. 


SALOMON   AND   THE   GRIFFIN  225 

SALOMON  AND  THE  GRIFFIN 

Our  Lord  Salomon  was  talking  one  day  with  the  genii.  He 
said  to  them :  "  There  is  born  a  girl  at  Dabersa  and  a  boy  at 
Djaberka.  This  boy  and  this  girl  shall  meet,"  he  added.  The 
griffin  said  to  the  genii :  "  In  spite  of  the  will  of  the  divine 
power,  I  shall  never  let  them  meet  each  other."  The  son  of 
the  King  of  Djaberka  came  to  Salomon's  house,  but  hardly 
had  he  arrived  when  he  fell  ill ;  then  the  griffin  carried  away  the 
daughter  of  the  King  of  Djaberka  and  put  her  upon  a  big 
tree  at  the  shore  of  the  sea.  The  wind  impelled  the  prince, 
who  had  embarked.  He  said  to  his  companions,  "  Put  me 
ashore."  He  went  .under  the  big  tree  and  fell  asleep.  The 
young  girl  threw  leaves  at  him.  He  opened  his  eyes,  and  she 
said  to  him :  "  Beside  the  griffin,  I  am  alone  here  with  my 
mother.  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  From  Djaberka." 

"  Why,"  she  continued,  "  has  God  created  any  human  be- 
ings except  myself,  my  mother,  and  our  Lord  Salomon  ?  " 

He  answered  her,  "  God  has  created  all  kinds  of  human 
beings  and  countries." 

"  Go,"  she  said,  "  bring  a  horse  and  kill  it.  Bring  also  some 
camphor  to  dry  the  skin,  which  you  will  hang  on  the  top  of  the 
mast."  The  griffin  came,  and  she  began  to  cry,  saying,  "  Why 
don't  you  conduct  me  to  the  house  of  our  Lord  Salomon  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  I  will  take  you." 

She  said  to  the  son  of  the  King,  "  Go  hide  inside  the  horse." 
He  hid  there. 

The  next  day  the  griffin  took  away  the  carcass  of  the  horse, 
and  the  young  girl  departed  also.  When  they  arrived  at  the 
house  of  our  Lord  Salomon,  the  latter  said  to  the  griffin,  "  I 
told  you  that  the  young  girl  and  the  young  man  should  be 
united." 

Full  of  shame  the  griffin  immediately  fled  and  took  refuge 
in  an  island. 

15 


aa6  MOORISH    LITERATURE 


ADVENTURE  OF  SIDI  MAHOMET 

One  day  Mouley  Mahomet  summoned  Sidi  Adjille  to  come 
to  Morocco,  or  he  would  put  him  in  prison.  The  saint  refused 
to  go  to  the  city  until  the  prince  had  sent  him  his  chaplit  and 
his  "  dalil  "  as  pledges  of  safety.  Then  he  started  on  the  way 
and  arrived  at  Morocco,  where  he  neither  ate  nor  drank  until 
three  days  had  passed.  The  Sultan  said  to  him: 

"  What  do  you  want  at  my  palace  ?  I  will  give  it  to  you, 
whatever  it  may  be." 

Sidi  Adjille  answered,  "  I  ask  of  you  only  one  thing,  that 
is,  to  fill  with  wheat  the  feed-bag  of  my  mule." 

The  prince  called  the  guardian,  and  said  to  him,  "  Fill  the 
feed-bag  of  his  mule."  The  guardian  went  and  opened  the 
door  of  the  first  granary  and  put  wheat  in  the  feed-bag  until 
the  first  granary  was  entirely  empty.  He  opened  another 
granary,  which  was  soon  equally  exhausted,  then  a  third,  and 
so  on  in  this  fashion  until  all  the  granaries  of  the  King  were 
emptied.  Then  he  wanted  to  open  the  silos,  but  their  guard- 
ian went  and  spoke  to  the  Sultan,  together  with  the  guardian 
of  the  granaries. 

"  Lord,"  they  said,  "  the  royal  granaries  are  all  empty,  and 
yet  we  have  not  been  able  to  fill  the  feed-bag  of  the  saint's 
mule." 

The  donkey-drivers  came  from  Fas  and  from  all  countries, 
bringing  wheat  on  mules  and  camels.  The  people  asked  them, 

"  Why  do  you  bring  this  wheat  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  wheat  of  Sidi  Mahomet  Adjille  that  we  are 
taking."  The  news  came  to  the  King,  who  said  to  the  saint, 
"Why  do  you  act  so,  now  that  the  royal  granaries  are 
empty  ?  "  Then  he  called  together  the  members  of  his  coun- 
cil and  wanted  to  have  Sidi  Mahomet's  head  cut  off.  "  Go 
out,"  he  said  to  him. 

"Wait  till  I  make  my  ablutions"  [for  prayer],  answered 
the  saint. 

The  people  of  the  makhzen  who  surrounded  him  watched 
him  among  them,  waiting  until  he  had  finished  his  ablutions, 
to  take  him  to  the  council  of  the  King  and  cut  off  his  head. 
When  Sidi  Mahomet  had  finished  washing,  he  lifted  his  eyes 


THE   WOMAN   AND   THE   FAIRY  227 

to  heaven,  got  into  the  tub  where  was  washing,  and 
vanished  completely  from  sight.  When  the  guardians  saw 
that  he  was  no  longer  there,  they  went  vainly  to  continue  the 
search  at  his  house  at  Tagountaft. 


THE  HAUNTED  GARDEN 

A  man  who  possessed  much  money  had  two  daughters. 
The  son  of  the  caliph  of  the  King  asked  for  one  of  them,  and 
the  son  of  the  cadi  asked  for  the  other,  but  their  father  would 
not  let  them  marry,  although  they  desired  it.  He  had  a  gar- 
den near  his  house.  When  it  was  night,  the  young  girls 
went  there,  the  young  men  came  to  meet  them,  and  they 
passed  the  night  in  conversation.  One  night  their  father  saw 
them.  The  next  morning  he  killed  his  daughters,  buried  them 
in  his  garden,  and  went  on  a  pilgrimage. 

That  lasted  so  until  one  night  the  son  of  the  cadi  and  the 
son  of  the  caliph  went  to  a  young  man  who  knew  how  to  play 
on  the  flute  and  the  rebab.  "  Come  with  us,"  they  said  to  him, 
"  into  the  garden  of  the  man  who  will  not  give  us  his  daugh- 
ters in  marriage.  You  shall  play  for  us  on  your  instruments." 
They  agreed  to  meet  there  that  night.  The  musician  went 
to  the  garden,  but  the  two  young  men  did  not  go.  The  mu- 
sician remained  and  played  his  music  alone.  In  the  middle 
of  the  night  two  lamps  appeared,  and  the  two  young  girls 
came  out  of  the  ground  under  the  lamps.  They  said  to  the 
musician :  "  We  are  two  sisters,  daughters  of  the  owner  of 
the  garden.  Our  father  killed  us  and  buried  us  here.  You, 
you  are  our  brother  for  this  night.  We  will  give  you  the 
money  which  our  father  has  hidden  in  three  pots.  Dig  here," 
they  added.  He  obeyed,  found  the  three  pots,  took  them 
away,  and  became  rich,  while  the  two  girls  returned  to  their 
graves. 

THE  WOMAN  AND  THE  FAIRY 

A  woman  who  was  named  Omm  Halima  went  one  day  to 
the  stream  to  wash  at  the  old  spring.  Alone,  in  the  middle 
of  the  day,  she  began  her  work,  when  a  woman  appeared  to 
her  and  said :  "  Let  us  be  friends,  you  and  I,  and  let  us  make 


228  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

a  promise.  When  you  come  to  this  spring,  bring  me  some 
herma  and  perfumes.  Cast  them  into  the  fountain  which  faces 
the  qsar.  I  will  come  forth  and  I  will  give  you  money."  And 
so  the  wife  of  Ben  Sernghown  returned  every  day  and  found 
the  other  woman,  who  gave  her  pieces  of  money.  Omm 
Khalifah  was  poor.  When  she  "  became  friends  "  with  the 
fairy  she  grew  rich  all  of  a  sudden.  The  people  were  curious 
to  know  how  she  had  so  quickly  acquired  a  fortune.  There 
was  a  rich  man,  the  possessor  of  much  property.  He  was 
called  Mouley  Ismail.  They  said  to  Omm  Khalifah : 

"  You  are  the  mistress  of  Mouley  Ismail,  and  he  gives  you 
pieces  of  money." 

She  answered,  "  Never  have  I  been  his  mistress."  One  day, 
when  she  went  to  the  spring  to  bathe,  the  people  followed  her 
until  she  arrived.  The  fairy  came  to  meet  her  as  usual,  and  gave 
her  money.  The  people  surprised  them  together.  But  the 
fairy  never  came  out  of  the  fountain  again. 

HAMED-BEN-CEGGAD 

There  was  in  a  city  a  man  named  Hamed-ben-Ceggad.  He 
lived  alone  with  his  mother.  He  lived  upon  nothing  but  the 
chase.  One  day  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  said  to  the  King: 

"  Hamed-ben-Ceggad  is  getting  the  better  of  you." 

He  said  to  them,  "  Tell  me  why  you  talk  thus  to  me,  or  I 
will  cut  off  your  heads." 

"  As  he  only  eats  the  flesh  of  birds,  he  takes  advantage  of 
you  for  his  food." 

The  King  summoned  Hamed  and  said  to  him,  "  You  shall 
hunt  for  me,  and  I  will  supply  your  food  and  your  mother's, 
too."  Every  day  Hamed  brought  game  to  the  prince,  and  the 
prince  grew  very  proud  of  him. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  city  were  jealous  of  him,  and  went 
to  the  Sultan  and  said :  "  Hamed-ben-Ceggad  is  brave.  He 
could  bring  you  the  tree  of  coral-wood  and  the  palm-tree  of 
the  wild  beasts." 

The  King  said  to  him,  "  If  you  are  not  afraid,  bring  me  the 
tree  of  coral-wood  and  the  palm-tree  of  the  wild  beasts." 

"  It  is  well,"  said  Hamed.  And  the  next  day  he  took  away 
all  the  people  of  the  city.  When  he  came  to  the  tree,  he  killed 


HAMED-BEN-CEGGAD 


229 


all  the  wild  beasts,  cut  down  the  palm-tree,  loaded  it  upon  the 
shoulders  of  the  people,  and  the  Sultan  built  a  house  of  coral- 
wood. 

Seeing  how  he  succeeded  in  everything,  they  said  to  the 
King,  "  Since  he  achieves  all  that  he  attempts,  tell  him  to 
bring  you  the  woman  with  the  set  of  silver  ornaments." 

The  prince  repeated  these  words  to  Hamed,  who  said : 

"  The  task  you  give  me  is  harsh,  nevertheless  I  will  bring 
her  to  you."  He  set  out  on  the  way,  and  came  to  a  place  where 
he  found  a  man  pasturing  a  flock  of  sheep,  carrying  a  mill- 
stone hanging  to  his  neck  and  playing  the  flute.  Hamed  said 
to  him :  "  By  the  Lord,  I  cannot  lift  a  small  rock,  and  this 
man  hangs  a  millstone  to  his  neck."  The  shepherd  said : 
"  You  are  Hamed-ben-Ceggad,  who  built  the  house  of  coral- 
wood?" 

"Who  told  you?" 

"  A  bird  that  flew  into  the  sky."  He  added,  "  I  will  go  with 
you." 

"  Come,"  said  Hamed.  The  shepherd  took  the  millstone 
from  his  neck,  and  the  sheep  were  changed  into  stones. 

On  the  way  they  met  a  naked  man,  who  was  rolling  in  the 
snow.  They  said  [to  themselves],  "The  cold  stings  us,  and 
yet  that  man  rolls  in  the  snow  without  the  cold  killing  him." 

The  man  said  to  them,  "  You  are  Hamed-ben-Ceggad,  who 
built  the  house  of  coral-wood  ?  " 

"Who  told  you  that?" 

"  A  bird  that  passed  flying  in  the  sky  told  me.  I  will  ac- 
company you." 

"  Come,"  said  Hamed.  After  they  had  pursued  their  way 
some  time,  they  met  a  man  with  long  ears. 

"  By  the  Lord,"  they  said,  "  we  have  only  small  ears,  and 
this  man  has  immense  ones." 

"  It  is  the  Lord  who  created  them  thus,  but  if  it  pleases  God 
I  will  accompany  you,  for  you  are  Hamed-ben-Ceggad." 

They  arrived  at  the  house  of  the  woman  with  the  silver  or- 
naments, and  Hamed  said  to  the  inhabitants,  "  Give  us  this 
woman,  that  we  may  take  her  away." 

"  Very  well,"  said  her  brother,  the  ogre.  They  killed  an 
ox,  placed  it  upon  a  hurdle,  which  they  lifted  up  and  put  down 
with  the  aid  of  ninety-nine  men. 


230 


MOORISH    LITERATURE 


"  Give  us  one  of  your  men  who  can  lift  this  hurdle." 

He  who  wore  millstones  hanging  from  his  neck  said,  "  I 
can  lift  it."  When  he  had  placed  it  on  the  ground,  they  served 
a  couscous  with  this  ox.  The  ogre  said,  "  Eat  all  that  we  give 
you."  They  ate  a  little,  and  the  man  with  the  long  ears  hid 
the  rest  of  the  food.  The  brother  continued :  "  You  give  us 
one  of  you  who  will  go  to  gather  a  branch  of  a  tree  that  stands 
all  alone  on  the  top  of  a  mountain  two  days'  march  in  the 
snow."  The  one  who  had  rolled  in  the  snow  departed,  and 
brought  back  the  branch. 

"  There  remains  one  more  proof,"  said  the  ogre.  "  A  part- 
ridge is  flying  in  the  sky ;  let  one  of  you  strike  it."  Hamed- 
ben-Ceggad  killed  it. 

They  gave  him  the  woman,  but  before  her  departure  her 
brother  gave  her  a  feather  and  said  to  her,  "  When  anyone 
shall  try  to  do  anything  to  you  against  your  will,  cast  this 
feather  on  the  hearth  and  we  will  come  to  you." 

People  told  the  woman,  "  The  old  Sultan  is  going  to  marry 
you." 

She  replied,  "  An  old  man  shall  never  marry  me,"  and  cast 
the  feather  into  the  fire.  Her  brother  appeared,  and  killed  all 
the  inhabitants  of  the  city,  as  well  as  the  King,  and  gave  the 
woman  to  Hamed-ben-Ceggad. 

THE  MAGIC  NAPKIN 

A  taleb  made  a  proclamation  in  these  terms :  "  Is  there 
anyone  who  will  sell  himself  for  100  mitquals  ? "  A  man 
agreed  to  sell  himself.  The  stranger  took  him  to  the  cadi,  who 
wrote  out  the  bill  of  sale.  He  took  the  100  mitquals  and  gave 
them  to  his  mother  and  departed  with  the  taleb.  They  went 
to  a  place  where  the  latter  began  to  repeat  certain  formulas. 
The  earth  opened  and  the  man  entered  it.  The  other  said 
to  him,  "  Bring  me  the  candlestick  of  reed  and  the  box."  He 
took  this  and  came  out  keeping  it  in  his  pocket. 

"  Where  is  the  box?  "  asked  the  taleb. 

"  I  did  not  find  it." 

"  By  the  Lord,  let  us  go."  He  took  him  to  the  mountains, 
cast  a  stone  at  him,  and  went  away.  He  lay  on  the  ground 
for  three  days.  Then  he  came  to  himself,  went  back  to  his 


THE  CHILD  AND   THE  KING  OF   THE  GENII       231 

own  country,  and  rented  a  house.  He  opened  the  box,  found 
inside  a  silk  napkin,  which  he  opened,  and  in  which  he  found 
seven  folds.  He  unfolded  one.  Genii  came  around  the  cham- 
ber, and  a  young  girl  danced  until  the  day  dawned.  The  man 
stayed  there  all  that  day  until  night.  The  King  came  out  that 
night,  and,  hearing  the  noise  of  the  dance,  he  knocked  at  the 
door,  with  his  vezir.  They  received  him  with  a  red  h'aik. 
He  amused  himself  until  the  day  dawned.  Then  he  went  home 
with  his  vezir.  The  latter  sent  for  the  man  and  said,  "Give 
me  the  box  which  you  have  at  home."  He  brought  it  to  the 
King,  who  said  to  him :  "  Give  me  the  box  which  you  have 
so  that  I  may  amuse  myself  with  it,  and  I  will  marry  you  to 
my  daughter."  The  man  obeyed  and  married  the  Sultan's 
daughter.  The  Sultan  amused  himself  with  the  box,  and  after 
his  death  his  son-in-law  succeeded  him. 


THE  CHILD  AND  THE  KING  OF  THE  GENII 

There  was  a  sheik  who  gave  instruction  to  two  talebs.  One 
day  they  brought  to  one  of  them  a  dish  of  couscous  with  meat. 
The  genius  stole  him  and  bore  him  away.  When  thej  had 
arrived  down  there  he  taught  him.  One  day  the  child  was 
crying.  The  King  of  the  genii  asked  him,  "  Why  do  you 
cry?" 

"  I  am  crying  for  my  father  and  my  mother.  I  don't  want 
to  stay  here  any  longer." 

The  King  asked  his  sons,  "  Who  will  take  him  back  ?  " 
"  I,"  said  one  of  them ;  "  but  how  shall  I  take  him  back  ?  " 
"  Carry  him  back  after  you  have  stuffed  his  ears  with  wool 
so  that  he  shall  not  hear  the  angels  worshipping  the  Lord." 

They  had  arrived  at  a  certain  place,  the  child  heard  the 
angels  worshipping  the  Lord,  and  did  as  they  did.  His  guide 
released  him  and  he  remained  three  days  without  awaking. 
When  he  came  to  himself,  he  took  up  his  journey  and  found  a 
mother-dog  which  slept  while  her  little  ones  barked,  although 
yet  unborn.  He  proceeded  and  met  next  an  ass  attacked  by 
a  swarm  of  flies.  Further  on  he  saw  two  trees,  on  one  perched 
a  blue  bird.  Afterward  it  flew  upon  the  other  tree  and  began 
to  sing.  He  found  next  a  fountain  of  which  the  bottom  was 
of  silver,  the  vault  of  gold,  and  the  waters  white.  He  went 


232  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

on  and  met  a  man  who  had  been  standing  for  three  days  with- 
out saying  a  word.  Finally  he  arrived  at  a  village  protected 
by  God,  but  which  no  one  entered.  He  met  a  wise  man  and 
said  to  him : 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  some  questions." 

"  What  do  you  wish  to  ask  me  ?  " 

"  I  found  a  mother-dog  which  was  asleep  while  her  little 
ones  were  barking,  although  yet  unborn." 

The  sage  answered,  "It  is  the  good  of  the  world  that  the 
old  man  should  keep  silence  because  he  is  ashamed  to  speak." 

"  I  saw  an  ass  attacked  by  a  swarm  of  flies." 

"  It  is  Pjoudj  and  Madjoudj  of  God  (Gog  and  Magog)  and 
the  Antichrist." 

"  I  met  two  trees,  a  blue  bird  perched  on  one,  then  flew 
upon  the  other  and  began  to  sing." 

"  It  is  the  picture  of  the  man  who  has  two  wives.  When 
he  speaks  to  one  the  other  gets  angry." 

"  I  saw  a  fountain  of  which  the  bottom  was  of  silver,  the 
vault  of  gold,  and  the  waters  white." 

"  It  is  the  fountain  of  life ;  he  who  drinks  of  it  shall  not  die." 

"  I  found  r.  man  who  was  praying.  I  stayed  three  days  and 
he  did  not  speak." 

"  It  is  he  who  never  prayed  upon  the  earth  and  is  now  mak- 
ing amends." 

"  Send  me  to  my  parents,"  concluded  the  child. 

The  old  man  saw  a  light  cloud  and  said  to  it,  "  Take  this 
human  creature  to  Egypt."  And  the  cloud  bore  him  to  his 
parents. 

THE  SEVEN  BROTHERS 

Here  is  a  story  that  happened  once  upon  a  time.  A  man 
had  seven  sons  who  owned  seven  horses,  seven  guns,  and 
seven  pistols  for  hunting.  Their  mother  was  about  to  increase 
the  family.  They  said  to  their  father :  "  If  we  have  a  little 
sister  we  shall  remain.  If  we  have  a  little  brother  we  shall  go." 
The  woman  had  a  little  boy.  They  asked,  "  Which  is  it?  " 

"  A  boy." 

They  mounted  their  horses  and  departed,  taking  provisions 
with  them.  They  arrived  at  a  tree,  divided  their  bread,  and 
ate  it.  The  next  day  they  started  and  travelled  as  far  as  a 


THE   SEVEN   BROTHERS 


233 


place  where  they  found  a  well,  from  which  they  drew  water. 
The  older  one  said,  "  Come,  let  us  put  the  young  one  in  the 
well."  They  united  against  him,  put  him  in,  and  departed, 
leaving  him  there.  They  came  to  a  city. 

The  young  man  remained  some  time  in  the  well  where  they 
had  put  him,  until  one  day  a  caravan  passing  that  way  stopped 
to  draw  water.  While  the  people  were  drinking  they  heard 
something  moving  at  the  bottom  of  the  well.  "  Wait  a 
moment,"  they  said;  they  let  down  a  rope,  the  young  man 
caught  it  and  climbed  up.  He  was  as  black  as  a  negro.  The 
people  took  him  away  and  sold  him  to  a  man  who  conducted 
him  to  his  house.  He  stayed  there  a  month  and  became  white 
as  snow.  The  wife  of  the  man  said: 

"  Come,  let  us  go  away  together." 

"  Never !  "  he  answered. 

At  evening  the  man  returned  and  asked,  "  What  is  the  negro 
doing?" 

"  Sell  him,"  said  the  woman. 

He  said,  "  You  are  free.     Go  where  you  please." 

The  young  man  went  away  and  came  to  a  city  where  there 
was  a  fountain  inhabited  by  a  serpent.  They  couldn't  draw 
water  from  this  fountain  without  his  eating  a  woman.  This 
day  it  was  the  turn  of  the  King's  daughter  to  be  eaten.  The 
young  man  asked  her : 

"  Why  do  you  weep  ?  " 

"  Because  it  is  my  turn  to  be  devoured  to-day." 

The  stranger  answered,  "  Courage,  I  will  kill  the  serpent,  if 
it  please  God." 

The  young  girl  entered  the  fountain.  The  serpent  darted 
toward  her,  but  as  soon  as  he  showed  his  head  the  young  man 
struck  it  with  his  stick  and  made  it  fly  away.  He  did  the  same 
to  the  next  head  until  the  serpent  was  dead.  All  the  people 
of  the  city  came  to  draw  water.  The  King  said : 

"Who "has  done  this?" 

"  It  is  he,"  they  cried,  "  the  stranger  who  arrived  yesterday." 
The  King  gave  him  his  daughter  and  named  him  his  lieutenant. 
The  wedding-feast  lasted  seven  days.  My  story  is  finished 
before  my  resources  are  exhausted. 


334 


MOORISH    LITERATURE 


HALF-A-COCK 


In  times  past  there  was  a  man  who  had  two  wives,  and  one 
was  wise  and  one  was  foolish.  They  owned  a  cock  in  com- 
mon. One  day  they  quarrelled  about  the  cock,  cut  it  in  two, 
and  each  took  half.  The  foolish  wife  cooked  her  part.  The 
wise  one  let  her  part  live,  and  it  walked  on  one  foot  and  had 
only  one  wing.  Some  days  passed  thus.  Then  the  half-a- 
cock  got  up  early,  and  started  on  his  pilgrimage.  At  the 
middle  of  the  day  he  was  tired  and  went  toward  a  brook  to 
rest.  A  jackal  came  there  to  drink.  Half-a-Cock  jumped  on 
his  back,  stole  one  of  his  hairs,  which  it  put  under  its  wing  and 
resumed  its  journey.  It  proceeded  until  evening  and  stopped 
under  a  tree  to  pass  the  night  there.  It  had  not  rested  long 
when  it  saw  a  lion  pass  near  the  tree  where  it  was  lying.  As 
soon  as  it  perceived  the  lion  it  jumped  on  its  back  and  stole 
one  of  its  hairs,  which  it  put  with  that  of  the  jackal.  The  next 
morning  it  got  up  early  and  took  up  its  journey  again.  Ar- 
rived at  the  middle  of  a  forest,  it  met  a  boar  and  said : 

"  Give  me  a  hair  from  your  back,  as  the  king  of  the  animals 
and  the  trickiest  of  them  have  done — the  jackal  and  the  lion." 

The  boar  answered,  "  As  these  two  personages  so  important 
among  the  animals  have  done  this,  I  will  also  give  you  what 
you  request."  He  plucked  a  hair  from  his  back  and  gave  it 
to  Half-a-Cock.  The  latter  went  on  his  way  and  arrived  at  the 
palace  of  a  king.  It  began  to  crow  and  to  say : 

"  To-morrow  the  King  will  die,  and  I  will  take  his  wife." 

Hearing  these  words  the  King  gave  to  his  negroes  the  com- 
mand to  seize  Half-a-Cock,  and  cast  him  into  the  middle  of 
the  sheep  and  goat-pen  to  be  trampled  upon  and  killed  by 
them,  so  that  the  King  might  get  rid  of  his  crowing.  The 
negroes  seized  him  and  cast  him  into  the  pen  to  perish.  When 
he  got  there  Half-a-Cock  took  from  under  his  wing  the  jackal's 
hair  and  burnt  it  in  the  fire.  As  soon  as  it  was  near  the  fire 
the  jackal  came  and  said: 

"  Why  are  you  burning  my  hair  ?  As  soon  as  I  smelled  it,  I 
came  running." 

Half-a-Cock  replied,  "  You  see  what  situation  I  am  in.  Get 
me  out  of  it." 

"  That  is  an  easy  thing,"  said  the  jackal,  and  immediately 


HALF-A-COCK  335 

blowed  in  order  to  summon  his  brothers.  They  gathered 
around  him,  and  he  gave  them  this  command :  "  My  brothers, 
save  me  from  Half-a-Cock,  for  it  has  a  hair  from  my  back 
which  it  has  put  in  the  fire.  I  don't  want  to  burn.  Take  Haif- 
a-Cock out  of  the  sheep-pen,  and  you  will  be  able  to  take  my 
hair  from  its  hands."  At  once  the  jackals  rushed  to  the  pen, 
strangled  everything  that  was  there,  and  rescued  Half-a-Cock. 
The  next  day  the  King  found  his  stables  deserted  and  his  ani- 
mals killed.  He  sought  for  Half-a-Cock,  but  in  vain.  The 
latter,  the  next  day  at  the  supper  hour,  began  to  crow  as  it 
did  the  first  time.  The  prince  called  his  negroes  and  said  to 
them: 

"  Seize  Half-a-Cock  and  cast  him  into  the  cattle-yard  so 
that  it  may  be  crushed  under  their  feet." 

The  negroes  caught  Half-a-Cock  and  threw  him  into  the 
middle  of  the  cow-pen.  As  soon  as  it  reached  there,  it  took 
the  lion's  hair  and  put  it  into  the  fire.  The  lion  came,  roar- 
ing, and  said: 

"  Why  do  you  burn  my  hair  ?  I  smelled  from  my  cave  the 
odor  of  burning  hair,  and  came  running  to  learn  the  motive 
of  your  action." 

Half-a-Cock  answered :  "  You  see  my  situation.  Help  me 
out  of  it." 

The  lion  went  out  and  roared  to  call  his  brothers.  They 
came  in  great  haste  and  said  to  him,  "  Why  do  you  call  us 
now?" 

"  Take  the  Half-a-Cock  from  the  ox-yard,  for  it  has  one 
of  my  hairs,  which  it  can  put  into  the  fire.  If  you  don't  rescue 
Half-a-Cock,  it  will  burn  the  hair,  and  I  don't  want  to  smell 
the  odor  of  burning  hair  while  I  am  alive." 

His  brothers  obeyed.  They  at  once  killed  all  the  cattle  in 
the  pen.  The  King  saw  that  his  animals  were  all  dead,  and  he 
fell  into  such  a  rage  that  he  nearly  strangled.  He  looked  for 
Half-a-Cock  to  kill  it  with  his  own  hands.  He  searched  a 
long  time  without  finding  it,  and  finally  went  home  to  rest. 
At  sunset  Half-a-Cock  came  to  his  usual  place  and  crowed 
as  on  the  former  occasions.  The  King  called  his  negroes  and 
said  to  them : 

"  This  time  when  you  have  caught  Half-a-Cock,  put  it  in  a 
house  and  shut  all  the  doors  till  morning.  I  will  kill  it  my- 
self." 


236  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

The  negroes  seized  him  immediately  and  put  him  in  the 
treasure-room.  When  it  got  there,  it  saw  money  under  its 
feet.  It  waited  till  it  had  nothing  to  fear  from  the  masters 
of  the  house,  who  were  all  sound  asleep,  took  from  under  its 
wing  the  hair  of  the  boar,  started  a  fire,  and  placed  the  hair 
in  it.  At  once  the  boar  came  running  and  shaking  the  earth. 
It  thrust  its  head  against  the  wall.  The  wall  shook  and  half 
of  it  fell  down,  and  going  to  Half-a-Cock  the  boar  said: 

"  Why  are  you  burning  my  hair  at  this  moment  ?  " 

"  Pardon  me,  you  see  the  situation  in  which  I  am,  without 
counting  what  awaits  me  in  the  morning,  for  the  King  is  go- 
ing to  kill  me  with  his  own  hands  if  you  don't  get  me  out  of 
this  prison." 

The  boar  replied :  "  The  thing  is  easy ;  fear  not,  I  will  open 
the  door  so  that  you  may  go  out.  In  fact,  you  have  stayed 
here  long  enough.  Get  up,  go  and  take  money  enough  for 
you  and  your  children." 

Half-a-Cock  obeyed.  It  rolled  in  the  gold,  took  all  that 
stuck  to  its  wing  and  its  foot,  and  swallowed  as  much  as  it 
could  hold.  It  took  the  road  it  had  followed  the  first  day  and 
when  it  had  arrived  near  the  house  it  called  the  mistress  and 
said :  "  Strike  now,  be  not  afraid  to  kill  me."  His  mistress 
began  to  strike  until  Half-a-Cock  called  from  beneath  the  mat : 

"  Enough  now.     Roll  the  mat." 

She  obeyed  and  saw  the  earth  all  shining  with  gold. 

At  the  time  when  Half-a-Cock  returned  from  his  pilgrimage 
the  two  women  owned  a  dog  in  common.  The  foolish  one 
seeing  that  her  companion  had  received  much  money  said  to 
her: 

"  We  will  divide  the  dog  between  us." 

The  wise  woman  answered:  "We  can't  do  anything  with 
it.  Let  it  live,  I  will  give  you  my  half.  Keep  it  for  yourself. 
I  have  no  need  of  it." 

The  foolish  one  said  to  the  dog,  "  Go  on  a  pilgrimage  as 
Half-a-Cock  did  and  bring  me  some  gold." 

The  dog  started  to  carry  out  the  commands  of  his  mistress. 
She  began  her  journey  in  the  morning  and  came  to  a  fountain. 
As  she  was  thirsty  she  started  to  drink.  As  she  stopped  she 
saw  in  the  middle  of  the  fountain  a  yellow  stone.  She  took 


STRANGE   MEETINGS 


237 


it  in  her  mouth  and  ran  back  home.  When  she  reached  the 
house  she  called  her  mistress  and  said  to  her : 

"  Get  ready  the  mats  and  the  rods,  you  see  that  I  have  come 
back  from  the  pilgrimage." 

The  foolish  one  prepared  the  mats  under  which  the  dog  ran 
as  soon  as  she  heard  the  voice  of  her  mistress  and  said,  "  Strike 
gently."  The  woman  seized  the  rods  and  struck  with  all  the 
force  possible.  The  dog  cried  out  to  her  a  long  while  for  her 
to  stop  the  blows.  Her  mistress  refused  to  stop  until  the  ani- 
mal was  cold.  She  lighted  up  the  mats  and  found  the  dog 
dead  with  the  yellow  stone  in  its  mouth. 

STRANGE  MEETINGS 

Once  upon  a  time  a  man  was  on  a  journey  and  he  met  a 
mare  who  grazed  in  the  meadow.  She  was  thin,  lean,  and  had 
only  skin  and  bone.  He  went  on  until  he  came  to  a  place 
where  he  found  a  mare  which  was  fat,  although  she  did  not 
eat.  He  went  on  further  until  he  met  a  sheep  which  kicked 
against  a  rock  till  evening  to  pass  the  night  there.  Advancing 
he  met  a  serpent  which  hung  in  a  hole  from  which  it  could 
not  get  out.  Farther  on,  he  saw  a  man  who  played  with  a 
ball,  and  his  children  were  old  men.  He  came  to  an  old  man 
who  said  to  him : 

"  I  will  explain  all  that  to  you.  The  lean  mare  which  you 
saw  represents  the  rich  man  whose  brothers  are  poor.  The 
fat  mare  represents  the  poor  man  whose  brothers  are  rich. 
The  serpent  which  swings  unable  to  enter  nor  to  leave  the 
hole  is  the  picture  of  the  word  which  once  spoken  and  heard 
can  never  go  back.  The  sheep  which  kicks  against  the  rock 
to  pass  the  night  there,  is  the  man  who  has  an  evil  house. 
The  one  whose  children  you  saw  aged  while  he  was  playing 
ball,  what  does  he  represent?  That  is  the  man  who  has  taken 
a  pretty  wife  and  does  not  grow  old.  His  children  have  taken 
bad  ones. 


238  MOORISH    LITERATURE 


THE  KING  AND  His  FAMILY 

In  times  gone  by  a  king  reigned  over  Maghreb.  He  had 
four  sons.  He  started,  he,  his  wife,  and  his  children,  for  the 
Orient.  They  set  sail,  but  their  ship  sank  with  them.  The 
waves  bore  them  all  in  separated  directions.  One  wave  took 
the  wife;  another  bore  the  father  alone  to  the  middle  of  the 
sea  on  an  island  where  he  found  a  mine  of  silver.  He  dug  out 
enough  silver  until  he  had  a  great  quantity  and  he  established 
himself  in  the  country.  His  people  after  heard  tell  of  him  and 
learned  that  he  dwelt  in  the  midst  of  the  sea.  They  built 
houses  until  there  was  a  great  city.  He  was  king  of  that 
country.  Whoever  came  poor  to  him  he  gave  him  pieces  of 
money.  A  poor  man  married  his  wife.  As  for  his  sons,  they 
applied  themselves  to  a  study,  each  in  a  different  country. 
They  all  became  learned  men  and  feared  God.  The  King  had 
a  search  made  for  tolbas  who  should  worship  God.  The  first 
of  the  brothers  was  recommended  to  him.  He  sent  for  him. 
He  sought  also  a  khodja.  The  second  brother  was  designated. 
He  summoned  him  to  the  court.  The  prince  also  especially 
wanted  an  adel.  Another  brother  was  pointed  to  him.  He 
made  him  come  to  him  as,  indeed,  he  also  did  the  imam,  who 
was  none  other  than  the  fourth  brother.  They  arrived  at  their 
father's  without  knowing  him  or  being  known  by  him.  The 
wife  and  the  man  who  had  espoused  her  also  came  to  the  King- 
to  make  complaint.  When  they  arrived  the  wife  went  alone 
that  night  to  the  palace.  The  prince  sent  for  the  four  tolba 
to  pass  the  night  with  him  until  morning.  During  the 
night  he  spied  upon  them  to  see  who  they  were.  One  of  them 
said  to  the  others,  "  Since  sleep  comes  not  upon  us,  let  each 
one  make  known  who  he  is." 

One  said :  "  My  father  was  a  king.  He  had  much  money 
and  four  sons  whose  names  were  like  yours." 

Another  said :  "  My  father  was  a  king.  My  case  is  like 
yours." 

Another  said :  "  My  father  was  a  king.  My  case  is  like 
yours." 

The  fourth  said  in  his  turn :  "  My  father,  too,  was  a  king. 
My  case  is  like  that  of  your  three.  You  are  my  brothers." 


BEDDOU  239 

Their  mother  overheard  them  and  took  to  weeping  until 
day. 

They  took  her  to  the  prince,  who  said,  "  Why  do  you  weep  ?  " 
She  answered :  "  I  was  formerly  the  wife  of  a  king  and  we 
had  four  sons.  We  set  sail,  he,  our  children,  and  I.  The  ship 
which  bore  us  was  wrecked.  Each  one  was  borne  away  alone, 
until  yesterday  when  they  spoke  before  me  during  the  night 
and  showed  me  what  had  happened  to  them,  to  their  father, 
and  to  their  mother." 

The  King  said,  "  Let  me  know  your  adventure." 
They  told  him  all  that  had  happened.     Then  the  prince 
arose,  weeping,  and  said,  "  You  are  my  children,"  and  to  the 
woman,  "  You  are  my  wife."     God  reunited  them. 

BEDDOU 

Two  men,  one  of  whom  was  named  Beddou  and  the  other 
Amkammel,  went  to  market  bearing  a  basket  of  figs.  They 
met  a  man  who  was  working,  and  said  to  him : 

"  God  assist  you !  " 

"  Amen !  "  he  answered.  One  of  them  wanted  to  wash  him- 
self, but  there  was  no  water.  The  laborer,  him  who  was  with 
him  (sic),  said,  "  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Beddou." 

"  By  the  Lord,  Beddou,  watch  my  oxen  while  I  go  to 
drink." 

"Go!" 

When  he  had  gone,  he  took  away  one  of  the  oxen.  On  his 
return  the  laborer  saw  that  one  was  missing.  He  went  to  the 
other  traveller  and  asked  him : 

"  By  my  father,  what  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Amkammel  Ouennidhui "  ("  The  Finisher "),  he  an- 
swered. 

"  By  the  Lord,  Amkammel  Ouennidhui,  watch  this  ox  for 
me  while  I  go  look  for  the  one  that  is  gone." 

"Go!" 

He  stole  the  other  one.  When  the  laborer  returned  he 
didn't  even  find  the  second. 

The  two  thieves  went  away,  taking  the  oxen.  They  killed 
them  to  roast  them.  One  drank  all  the  water  of  the  sea,  the 


240  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

other  all  the  fresh  water,  to  wash  it  down.  When  they  had 
finished,  one  stayed  there  to  sleep,  the  other  covered  him  with 
ashes.  The  former  got  up  to  get  a  drink  and  the  ashes  fell 
on  the  road.  When  he  came  back,  the  second  covered  him- 
self with  the  ox-head.  His  brother,  who  had  gone  to  get  a 
drink,  was  afraid,  and  ran  away.  They  divided  the  other  ox 
to  eat  it.  The  one  who  had  drunk  the  sea-water  now  drank 
fresh  water,  and  the  one  who  had  drunk  fresh  water  now 
drank  sea-water.  When  they  had  finished  their  repast  they 
took  up  their  journey.  They  found  an  old  woman  who  had 
some  money,  upon  which  she  was  sitting.  When  they  arrived 
they  fought.  She  arose  to  separate  them.  One  of  them  took 
her  place  to  pass  the  night,  and  pretended  that  he  was  dead. 
The  old  woman  said  to  him : 

"  Get  up,  my  son." 

He  refused.  In  the  evening  one  of  them  stole  the  money, 
and  said  to  his  brother : 

"  Arise !    Let  us  go !  " 

They  went  away  to  a  place  where  was  sleeping  the  one  who 
had  taken  the  money.  The  other  took  away  the  dirkhcms  and 
departed,  leaving  the  first  asleep.  When  he  awaked  he  found 
nothing.  He  started  in  pursuit  of  the  other,  and  when  he 
arrived  he  found  him  dying  of  illness.  The  latter  had  said  to 
his  wife,  "  Bury  me."  She  buried  him.  He  who  had  first  stolen 
the  money  went  away.  He  said,  "  It  is  an  ox." 

"  It  is  I,  my  friend,"  he  cried.  "  Praise  be  to  God,  my 
friend !  May  your  days  pass  in  happiness  !  "  Beddou  said  to 
him :  "  Let  us  go  for  a  hunt." 

They  went  away  alone.    Beddou  added :  "  I  will  shave  you." 

He  shaved  him,  and  when  he  came  to  the  throat  he  killed 
him  and  buried  his  head.  A  pomegranate-tree  sprang  up  at 
this  place.  One  day  Beddou  found  a  fruit,  which  he  took  to 
the  King.  When  he  arrived  he  felt  that  it  was  heavy.  It  was 
a  head.  The  King  asked  him : 

"What  is  that?" 

"A  pomegranate." 

"  We  know  what  you  have  been  doing,"  said  the  King,  and 
had  his  head  cut  off.  My  story  is  finished. 


THE   LANGUAGE   OF   THE   BEASTS  241 

THE  LANGUAGE  OF  THE  BEASTS 

Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  man  who  had  much  goods. 
One  day  he  went  to  market.  There  came  a  greyhound,  which 
ate  some  meat.  The  butcher  gave  it  a  blow,  which  made  it 
yelp.  Seeing  this,  the  heart  of  the  man  was  touched  with 
compassion.  He  bought  of  the  butcher  half  a  piece  of  meat 
and  flung  it  to  the  greyhound.  The  dog  took  it  and  went 
away.  It  was  the  son  of  a  king  of  the  nether  world. 

Fortune  changed  with  the  man.  He  lost  all  his  possessions, 
and  began  to  wash  for  people.  One  day,  he  had  gone  to  wash 
something,  he  stretched  it  on  the  sand  to  dry.  A  jerboa  ap- 
peared with  a  ring  in  its  ear.  The  man  ran  after  it,  killed  it, 
hid  the  ring,  made  a  fire,  cooked  the  jerboa  and  ate  it.  A 
woman  came  out  of  the  earth,  seized  him,  and  demanded, 
"  Haven't  you  seen  my  son,  with  an  ear-ring?  " 

"  I  haven't  seen  anybody,"  he  answered;  "  but  I  saw  a  jer- 
boa which  had  a  ring  in  its  ear." 

"  It  is  my  son."  She  drew  him  under  the  earth  and  told 
him :  "  You  have  eaten  my  son,  you  have  separated  me  from 
him.  Now  I  will  separate  you  from  your  children,  and  you 
shall  work  in  the  place  of  my  son."  He  who  was  changed 
into  a  greyhound  saw  this  man  that  day,  and  said  to  him :  "  It 
is  you  who  bought  some  meat  for  a  greyhound  and  threw  it  to 
him?" 

"  It  is  I." 

"  I  am  that  greyhound.    Who  brought  you  here  ?  " 

"A  woman,"  answered  the  man,  and  he  recounted  all  his 
adventure. 

"  Go  and  make  a  complaint  to  the  King,"  answered  the 
other.  "  I  am  his  son.  I'll  tell  him :  '  This  man  did  me  a  good 
service.'  When  he  asks  you  to  go  to  the  treasure  and  take 
as  much  money  as  you  wish,  answer  him :  '  I  don't  want  any. 
I  only  want  you  to  spit  a  benediction  into  my  mouth.'  If  he 
asks  you,  '  Who  told  you  that  ?  '  answer,  '  Nobody.'  " 

The  man  went  and  found  the  King  and  complained  of  the 
woman.  The  King  called  her  and  asked  her :  "  Why  have 
you  taken  this  man  captive  ?  " 

"  He  ate  my  son." 

"  Why  was  your  son  metamorphosed  into  a  jerboa?  When 
16 


242  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

men  see  one  of  those  they  kill  him  and  eat  him."  Then  ad- 
dressing the  man :  "  Give  her  back  the  ear-ring."  He  gave  it 
to  her. 

"  Go,"  said  the  King,  "  take  this  man  to  the  place  from 
which  you  brought  him." 

The  son  of  the  King  then  said  to  his  father :  "  This  man  did 
me  a  favor;  you  ought  to  reward  him." 

The  King  said  to  him :  "  Go  to  the  treasure,  take  as  much 
money  as  you  can." 

"  I  don't  want  money,"  he  answered ;  "  I  want  you  to  spit 
into  my  mouth  a  benediction." 

"Who  told  you  that?" 

"  Nobody." 

"  You  will  not  be  able  to  bear  it." 

"  I  will  be  able." 

"  When  I  have  spat  into  your  mouth,  you  will  understand  the 
language  of  beasts  and  birds;  you  will  know  what  they  say 
when  they  speak;  but  if  you  reveal  it  to  the  people  you  will 
die." 

"  I  will  not  reveal  it."  So  the  King  spat  into  his  mouth 
and  sent  him  away,  saying  to  the  woman,  "  Go  and  take  him 
back  where  you  found  him."  She  departed,  and  took  him 
back  there. 

He  mounted  his  ass  and  came  back  to  his  house.  He  ar- 
ranged the  load  and  took  back  to  the  people  the  linen  he  had 
washed.  Then  he  remounted  the  beast  to  go  and  seek  some 
earth.  He  was  going  to  dig  when  he  heard  a  crow  say  in  the 
air: 

"  Dig  beneath ;  you  will  sing  when  God  has  made  you  rich." 

He  understood  what  the  crow  said,  dug  beneath,  and  found 
a  treasure.  He  filled  a  basket  with  it.  On  the  top  he  put  a 
little  earth  and  went  home,  but  often  returned  to  the  spot.  On 
one  of  these  occasions  his  ass  met  a  mule,  which  said : 

"  Are  you  working  still  ?  " 

The  ass  replied :  "  My  master  has  found  a  treasure  and  he 
is  taking  it  away." 

The  mule  answered :  "  When  you  are  in  a  crowd  balk  and 
throw  the  basket  to  the  ground.  People  will  see  it,  all  will  be 
discovered,  and  your  master  will  leave  you  in  peace." 

The  man  had  heard  every  word  of  this.    He  filled  his  basket 


THE   LANGUAGE   OF   THE   BEASTS 


243 


with  earth  only.  When  they  arrived  at  a  crowd  of  people  the 
ass  kicked  and  threw  the  load  to  the  ground.  Her  master  beat 
her  till  she  had  enough.  He  applied  himself  to  gathering  the 
treasure,  and  became  a  rich  merchant. 

He  had  at  home  some  chickens  and  a  dog.  One  day  he 
went  into  the  granary,  and  a  hen  followed  him  and  ate  the 
grain.  A  cock  said  to  her : 

"  Bring  me  a  little." 

She  answered,  "  Eat  for  yourself." 

The  master  began  to  laugh.    His  wife  asked  him : 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  You  are  laughing  at  me." 

"  Not  at  all." 

"  You  must  tell  me  what  you  are  laughing  at." 

"  If  I  tell  you  I  shall  die." 

"  You  shall  tell  me,  and  you  shall  die." 

"  To-night."  He  brought  out  some  grain  and  said  to  his 
wife,  "  Give  alms."  He  invited  the  people,  bade  them  to  eat, 
and  when  they  had  gone  he  brought  food  to  the  dog,  but  he 
would  not  eat.  The  neighbor's  dog  came,  as  it  did  every  day, 
to  eat  with  his  dog.  To-day  it  found  the  food  intact. 

"  Come  and  eat,"  it  said. 

"  No,"  the  dog  answered. 

"Why  not?" 

Then  the  dog  told  the  other :  "  My  master,  hearing  the 
chickens  talk,  began  to  laugh.  His  wife  asked  him :  '  Why 
are  you  laughing?  '  '  If  I  tell  you,  I  shall  die/  '  Tell  me  and 
die.'  That  is  why,"  continued  the  dog,  "  he  has  given  alms, 
for  when  he  reveals  his  secret  he  will  die,  and  I  shall  never 
find  anyone  to  act  as  he  has." 

The  other  dog  replied :  "  As  he  knows  our  language,  let 
him  take  a  stick  and  give  it  to  his  wife  until  she  has  had 
enough.  As  he  beats  her  let  him  say :  '  This  is  what  I  was 
laughing  at.  This  is  what  I  was  laughing  at.  This  is  what  I 
was  laughing  at,'  until  she  says  to  him,  '  Reveal  to  me  noth- 
ing.'" 

The  man  heard  the  conversation  of  the  dogs,  and  went 
and  got  a  stick.  When  his  wife  and  he  went  to  bed  she  said 
to  him,  "  Tell  me  that  now." 


244  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

Then  he  took  the  stick  and  beat  her,  saying :  "  This  is  what 
I  was  laughing  at.  This  is  what  I  was  laughing  at.  This  is 
what  I  was  laughing  at,"  until  she  cried  out : 

"  Don't  tell  it  to  me.  Don't  tell  it  to  me.  Don't  tell  it  to 
me." 

He  left  her  alone.  When  the  dogs  heard  that,  they  rejoiced, 
ran  out  on  the  terrace,  played,  and  ate  their  food.  From  that 
day  the  wife  never  again  said  to  her  husband,  "  Tell  me  that !  " 
They  lived  happy  ever  after.  If  I  have  omitted  anything, 
may  God  forgive  me  for  it. 

THE  APPLE  OF  YOUTH 

There  once  lived  a  king  who  had  five  daughters  and  no 
sons.  They  grew  up.  He  wanted  them  to  marry,  but  they 
would  not  have  any  of  the  young  men  of  the  city.  A  youth 
came  from  a  far  country  and  stood  under  the  castle,  beneath 
the  window  of  the  youngest  daughter.  She  saw  him,  and  told 
her  father  she  would  marry  him. 

"  Bring  him  in,"  said  the  King. 

"  He  will  come  to-morrow." 

"  God  be  praised,"  said  the  King,  "  that  you  are  pleased 
with  us." 

The  young  man  answered,  "  Give  me  your  daughter  for  a 
wife."  ' 

"  Advise  me,"  said  the  King. 

The  stranger  said,  "  Go  and  wait  till  to-morrow." 

The  next  day  the  young  man  said  to  the  King :  "  Make  all 
the  inhabitants  of  the  city  come  out.  You  will  stand  with  the 
clerks  at  the  entrance  to  the  gate.  Dress  your  daughters  and 
let  them  choose  their  husbands  themselves." 

The  people  began  to  come  out.  The  eldest  daughter  struck 
one  of  them  on  the  chest  with  an  apple,  and  they  said :  "  That 
daughter  has  chosen  a  husband.  Bravo !  "  Each  one  of  the 
daughters  thus  selected  a  husband,  and  the  youngest  kept 
hers.  A  little  while  afterward,  the  King  received  a  visit  from 
one  of  his  sons-in-law,  who  said  to  him,  "  What  do  you  want 
us  to  give  you  ?  " 

"  I'll  see  what  my  daughters  want,"  he  answered.  "  Come 
back  in  six  days." 


THE  APPLE  OF  YOUTH  245 

When  they  went  to  see  their  wives  the  King  said  to  them, 
"  I  will  ask  of  you  a  thing  about  which  they  have  spoken  to 
me." 

"  What  is  it  ?    We  are  anxious  to  know." 

"It  is  an  apple,  the  odor  of  which  gives  to  the  one  who 
breathes  it  youth,  no  matter  what  his  age  may  be." 

"  It  is  difficult,"  they  answered.  "  We  know  not  where  it 
can  be  found." 

"  If  you  do  not  bring  it  to  me,  you  cannot  marry  my  daugh- 
ter." 

They  kept  silent,  and  then  consulted  with  each  other.  The 
youngest  said  to  them,  "  Seek  the  means  to  satisfy  the  King." 

"  Give  us  your  advice " 

"  Father-in-law,  to-morrow  we  shall  bring  you  the  apple." 
His  brothers-in-law  added :  "  Go  out.  To-morrow  we  will 
meet  you  outside  the  city." 

The  next  day  they  all  five  met  together.  Four  of  them  said 
to  the  other,  "  Advise  us  or  we  will  kill  you." 

"  Cut  off  your  fingers,"  he  said. 

The  first  one  began,  and  the  three  others  did  the  same. 
The  youngest  one  took  them  and  put  them  into  his  game-bag, 
and  then  he  added,  "  Wait  near  the  city  till  I  come  back." 

He  went  out  into  the  desert  and  came  to  the  city  of  the 
ogress.  He  entered,  and  found  her  ready  to  grind  some 
wheat.  He  said  to  the  ogress,  "  Show  me  the  apple  whose 
color  gives  eternal  youth  to  the  old  man  who  smells  it." 

"  You  are  in  the  family  of  ogres,"  she  said.  "  Cut  a  hair 
from  the  horse  of  their  King.  When  you  go  into  the  garden 
cast  this  hair  into  the  fire.  You  will  find  a  tree,  from  which 
you  must  pick  five  fruits.  When  plucking  them  do  not  speak 
a  word,  and  keep  silence  on  your  return.  It  is  the  smallest 
fruit  that  possesses  the  magic  power." 

He  took  the  apple  and  went  back  to  the  city,  where  he  found 
his  companions.  He  concealed  in  his  breast  the  wonderful 
fruit,  and  gave  the  others  to  his  brothers-in-law,  one  to  each. 
They  entered  the  palace  of  the  King,  who  was  overjoyed  to 
see  them,  gave  them  seats,  and  asked  them,  "  Have  you 
brought  it  or  not  ?  " 

"  We  have  brought  it,"  they  answered. 

He  said  to  the  eldest,  "  Give  me  your  apple  first." 


246  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

He  took  a  mirror  in  his  left  hand,  and  the  fruit  in  the  right 
hand,  bent  down,  and  inhaled  the  odor  of  the  apple,  but  with- 
out results.  He  threw  it  down  upon  the  ground.  The  others 
gave  him  their  apples,  with  no  more  success. 

"  You  have  deceived  me,"  he  said  to  them.  "  The  apples 
do  not  produce  the  effect  that  I  sought." 

Addressing,  then,  the  stranger,  he  said,  "  Give  me  your 
apple." 

The  other  son-in-law  replied :  "  I  am  not  of  this  country.  I 
will  not  give  you  my  fruit." 

"  Give  it  to  me  to  look  at,"  said  the  King.  The  young  man 
gave  it  to  him,  saying,  "  Take  a  mirror  in  your  right  hand  and 
the  apple  in  your  left  hand." 

The  King  put  the  apple  to  his  nose,  and,  looking  at  his 
beard,  saw  that  it  became  black.  His  teeth  became  white. 
He  grew  young  again.  "  You  are  my  son,"  he  said  to  the 
young  man.  And  he  made  a  proclamation  to  his  subjects, 
"  When  I  am  dead  he  shall  succeed  me  on  the  throne."  His 
son-in-law  stayed  some  time  with  him,  and  after  the  death  of 
the  King  he  reigned  in  his  place  and  did  not  marry  the  other 
daughters  of  the  King  to  his  companions. 


POPULAR  TALES  OF  THE  KABYLES 


[  Translated  by  J.  Riviere  and  Chauncey  C.  Starkweather] 


POPULAR  TALES  OF  THE   KABYLES 


ALI  AND   OU  ALI 

A  LI  and  Ou  AH  were  two  friends.    One  day  they  met  at 
the  market.    One  of  them  bore  ashes  and  the  other 
carried  dust.    The  first  one  had  covered  his  goods  with 
a  little  flour.    The  other  had  concealed  his  merchandise  under 
some  black  figs.    "  Come,  I  will  sell  you  some  flour,"  said  Ali. 

"  Come,  I  will  sell  you  some  black  figs,"  answered  Ou  Ali. 

Each  regained  his  own  horse.  Ali,  who  thought  he  was 
carrying  flour,  found,  on  opening  his  sack,  that  it  was  only 
as-hes.  Ou  Ali,  who  thought  he  was  bearing  black  figs,  found 
on  opening  his  sack  that  it  was  nothing  but  dust.  Another 
day  they  again  greeted  each  other  in  the  market.  Ali  smiled. 
Ou  Ali  smiled,  and  said  to  his  friend : 

"  For  the  love  of  God,  what  is  your  name  ?  " 

"Ali;  and  yours?" 

"  Ou  Ali." 

Another  time  they  were  walking  together,  and  said  to  each 
other : 

"  Let  us  go  and  steal." 

One  of  them  stole  a  mule  and  the  other  stole  a  rug.  They 
passed  the  night  in  the  forest.  Now,  as  the  snow  was  falling, 
Ali  said  to  Ou  Ali : 

"  Give  me  a  little  of  your  rug  to  cover  me." 

Ou  Ali  refused.  "  You  remember,"  he  added,  "  that  I  asked 
you  to  put  my  rug  on  your  mule,  and  you  would  not  do  it." 
An  instant  afterward  Ali  cut  off  a  piece  of  the  rug,  for  he  was 
dying  of  cold.  Ou  Ali  got  up  and  cut  the  lips  of  the  mule. 
The  next  morning,  when  they  awaked,  Ou  Ali  said  to  Ali : 

"  O  my  dear  friend,  your  mule  is  grinning." 

"  O  my  dear  friend,"  replied  Ali,  "  the  rats  have  gnawed 
your  rug." 

249 


250  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

And  they  separated.  Some  time  afterward  they  met  anew. 
AH  said  to  Ou  Ali : 

"  Let  us  go  and  steal." 

They  saw  a  peasant,  who  was  working.  One  of  them  went 
to  the  brook  to  wash  his  cloak  there,  and  found  it  dry.  He 
laid  the  blade  of  his  sabre  so  that  it  would  reflect  the  rays  of 
the  sun,  and  began  to  beat  his  cloak  with  his  hands  as  if  to 
wash  it.  The  laborer  came  to  the  brook  also,  and  found  the 
man  who  was  washing  his  cloak  without  water. 

"  May  God  exterminate  you,"  said  he,  "  who  wash  without 
water." 

"  May  God  exterminate  you,"  answered  the  washer,  "  who 
work  without  a  single  ox." 

The  other  robber  watched  the  laborer,  and  had  already 
stolen  one  of  his  oxen.  The  laborer  went  back  to  his  plough, 
and  said  to  the  washer,  "  Keep  this  ox  for  me  while  I  go  and 
hunt  for  the  other."  As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight  the 
robber  took  away  the  ox  left  in  his  charge.  The  laborer  re- 
turned, and  seizing  the  goad  by  one  end  he  gave  a  great  blow 
on  the  plough-handle,  crying: 

"  Break,  now.    It  matters  little." 

The  robbers  met  in  a  wood  and  killed  the  oxen.  As  they 
lacked  salt,  they  went  to  purchase  it.  They  salted  the  meat, 
roasted  it,  and  ate  it.  Ali  discovered  a  spring.  Ou  Ali  not 
being  able  to  find  water,  was  dying  of  thirst. 

"  Show  me  your  spring,"  he  said  to  Ali,  "  and  I  will  drink." 

"  Eat  some  salt,  my  dear  friend,"  answered  Ali.  What  could 
he  do  ?  Some  days  afterward  Ou  Ali  put  ashes  on  the  shoes 
of  Ali.  The  next  day  he  followed  the  traces  of  the  ashes,  found 
the  spring,  and  discovered  thus  the  water  that  his  friend  was 
drinking.  He  took  the  skin  of  one  of  the  oxen  and  carried  it 
to  the  fountain.  He  planted  two  sticks  above  the  water,  hung 
the  skin  on  the  sticks,  and  placed  the  horns  of  the  ox  opposite 
the  road.  During  the  night  his  friend  went  to  the  spring.  At 
the  sight  of  the  skin  thus  stretched  out,  fear  seized  him,  and 
he  fled. 

"  I  am  thirsty,"  said  Ou  Ali. 

"  Eat  some  salt,  my  dear  friend,"  answered  Ali,  "  for  salt 
removes  thirst." 

Ali  retired,  and,  after  having  eaten,  ran  to  examine  the  skin 


ALI  AND   OU   ALI  251 

that  he  had  stretched  out.  Ou  AH  ate  the  salt,  and  was  dying 
of  thirst. 

"  For  the  love  of  God,"  he  said  finally,  "  show  me  where 
you  drink." 

Ali  was  avenged.  "  Come,  Jew-face,  and  I  will  show  you 
the  water."  He  made  him  drink  at  the  spring,  and  said  to 
him :  "  See  what  you  were  afraid  of."  The  meat  being 
finished,  they  started  away.  Ou  Ali  went  to  the  house  of  Ali, 
and  said  to  him : 

"  Come,  we  will  marry  you  to  the  daughter  of  an  old 
woman." 

Now,  the  old  woman  had  a  herd  of  oxen.  She  said  to  Ali : 
"  Take  this  drove  to  the  fields  and  mount  one  of  the  animals." 
Ali  mounted  one  of  the  oxen.  He  fell  to  the  ground ;  the  oxen 
began  to  run  and  trample  on  him.  Ou  Ali,  who  was  at  the 
house,  said  to  the  old  woman : 

"  O  my  old  woman,  give  me  your  daughter  in  marriage." 

She  called  her  daughter.  "  Take  a  club,"  she  said  to  her, 
"  and  we  will  give  it  to  him  until  he  cries  for  mercy." 

The  daughter  brought  a  club  and  gave  Ou  Ali  a  good  beat- 
ing. Ali,  who  was  watching  the  herd,  came  at  nightfall  and 
met  his  friend. 

"  Did  the  old  woman  accept  you  ?  "  he  asked  him. 

"  She  accepted  me,"  answered  Ali.  "  And  is  the  herd  easy 
to  watch?" 

"  From  morning  till  night  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  re- 
pose. Take  my  place  to-morrow,  and  mount  one  of  the 
oxen." 

The  next  day  Ou  Ali  said  to  the  old  woman,  "  To-day  I  will 
take  care  of  the  herd."  And,  on  starting,  he  recommended  Ali 
to  ask  the  old  woman  for  her  daughter's  hand. 

"  It  is  well,"  answered  Ali.  Ou  Ali  arrived  in  the  fields ; 
one  of  the  oxen  seized  him  with  his  horns  and  tossed  him  into 
the  air.  All  the  others  did  the  same  thing.  He  regained  the 
horse  half  dead.  Ali,  who  had  remained  at  the  house,  asked 
the  old  woman  for  her  daughter's  hand.  "  You  ask  me 
again  ?  "  said  she.  She  took  a  club  and  gave  it  to  him  till  he 
had  had  enough.  Ou  Ali  said  to  Ali :  "  You  have  played  me 
a  trick."  Ali  answered  him :  "  Without  doubt  they  gave  me 
the  stick  so  hard  that  I  did  not  hear  the  last  blow." 


252 


MOORISH    LITERATURE 


"  It  is  well,  my  dear  friend.  Ali  owes  nothing  to  Ou  AH." 
They  went  away.  The  old  woman  possessed  a  treasure. 
Ou  Ali  therefore  said  to  Ali :  "  I  will  put  you  in  a  basket,  for 
you  know  that  we  saw  that  treasure  in  a  hole."  They  re- 
turned to  the  old  woman's  house.  Ali  goes  down  into  the 
hole,  takes  the  treasure,  and  puts  it  into  the  basket.  Ou  Ali 
draws  up  the  basket,  takes  it,  abandons  his  friend,  now  a  pris- 
oner, and  runs  to  hide  the  treasure  in  the  forest.  Ali  was  in 
trouble,  for  he  knew  not  how  to  get  out.  What  could  he  do  ? 
He  climbed  up  the  sides  of  the  hole.  When  he  found  himself 
in  the  house,  he  opened  the  door  and  fled.  Arriving  at  the 
edge  of  the  forest  he  began  to  bleat.  Ou  Ali,  thinking  it  was 
a  ewe,  ran  up.  It  was  his  friend. 

"  O  my  dear,"  cried  Ali,  "  I  have  found  you  at  last." 
"  God  be  praised.    Now,  let  us  carry  our  treasure." 
They  started  on  the  way.    Ou  Ali,  who  had  a  sister,  said  to 
Ali :  "  Let  us  go  to  my  sister's  house."    They  arrived  at  night- 
fall.   She  received  them  with  joy.     Her  brother  said  to  her : 
"  Prepare  some  pancakes  and  some  eggs  for  us." 
She  prepared  the  pancakes  and  the  eggs  and  served  them 
with  the  food." 

"  O  my  sister,"  cried  Ou  Ali,  "  my  friend  does  not  like 
eggs ;  bring  us  some  water."  She  went  to  get  the  water.  As 
soon  as  she  had  gone,  Ali  took  an  egg  and  put  it  into  his 
mouth.  When  the  woman  returned,  he  made  such  efforts  to 
give  it  up  that  he  was  all  out  of  breath.  The  repast  was 
finished,  and  Ali  had  not  eaten  anything.  Ou  Ali  said  to  his 
sister :  "  O  my  sister,  my  friend  is  ill ;  bring  me  a  skewer." 
She  brought  him  a  skewer,  which  he  put  into  the  fire.  When 
the  skewer  was  red  with  the  heat,  Ou  Ali  seized  it  and  applied 
it  to  the  cheek  of  Ali.  The  latter  uttered  a  cry,  and  rejected 
the  egg.  "  Truly,"  said  the  woman,  "  you  do  not  like  eggs." 
The  two  friends  started  and  arrived  at  a  village. 
"  Let  us  go  to  my  sister's  house,"  said  Ali  to  his  friend.  She 
received  them  with  open  arms. 

Ali  said  to  her :  "  O  my  sister,  prepare  a  good  stew  for  us." 
They  placed  themselves  at  the  table  at  nightfall,  and  she 
served  them  with  food. 

"  O  my  sister,"  cried  Ali,  "  my  friend  does  not  like  stew." 
Ali  ate  alone.     When  he  was  satisfied,  the  two   friends 


THE   INFIDEL  JEW  253 

started,  without  forgetting  the  treasure.  On  the  way  Ali  said 
to  Ou  Ali :  "  Give  it  to  me  to-day  and  I  will  deposit  it  in  my 
house."  He  took  it  and  gave  it  to  his  wife.  "  Bury  me,"  he 
said  to  her.  "  And  if  Ou  Ali  comes  tell  him  that  his  old  friend 
is  dead,  and  receive  him  with  tears."  Ou  Ali  arrived,  and 
asked  the  woman  in  tears  to  see  the  tomb  of  his  dead  friend. 
He  took  an  ox-horn  and  began  to  dig  in  the  earth  that  cov- 
ered the  body. 

"  Behind !  behind !  "  cried  the  pretended  dead  man. 

"  Get  up,  there,  you  liar,"  answered  Ali. 

They  went  away  together.  "  Give  me  the  treasure,"  asked 
Ou  Ali ;  "  to-day  I  will  take  it  to  my  house."  He  took  it  to 
his  house,  and  said  to  his  wife :  "  Take  this  treasure.  I  am 
going  to  stretch  myself  out  as  if  I  were  dead.  When  Ali  comes 
receive  him  weeping,  and  say  to  him :  *  Your  friend  is  dead. 
He  is  stretched  out  in  the  bedroom.' " 

Ali  went  and  said  to  the  woman :  "  Get  me  some  boiling 
water,  for  your  husband  told  me  to  wash  him  when  he  should 
die."  When  the  water  was  ready  the  woman  brought  it.  Ali 
seized  the  kettle  and  poured  it  on  the  stomach  of  Ou  Ali,  who 
sprang  up  with  a  bound.  Thus  he  got  even  for  the  trick  of 
his  friend.  The  two  friends  divided  the  treasure  then,  and  Ali 
went  home. 


THE  INFIDEL  JEW 

A  man  went  on  a  journey.  At  the  moment  of  departure  he 
placed  with  a  Jew,  his  friend,  a  jar  filled  with  gold.  He  cov- 
ered the  gold  with  butter  and  said  to  the  Jew :  "  I  trust  to 
your  care  this  jar  of  butter,  as  I  am  going  on  a  journey."  On 
his  return  he  hastened  to  the  house  of  his  friend.  "  Give  me 
the  jar  of  butter  that  I  left  with  you,"  he  said.  The  Jew  gave 
it  to  him.  But  the  poor  traveller  found  nothing  but  butter, 
for  the  Jew  had  taken  the  gold.  Nevertheless,  he  did  not  tell 
anybody  of  the  misfortune  that  had  happened  to  him.  But 
his  countenance  bore  traces  of  a  secret  sorrow.  His  brother 
perceived  it,  and  said  to  him : 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  intrusted  a  jar  filled  with  gold  to  a  Jew,"  he  answered, 


254  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

"  and  he  only  returned  a  jar  of  butter  to  me.  I  don't  know 
what  to  do  to  recover  my  property." 

His  brother  replied :  "  The  thing  is  easy.  Prepare  a  feast 
and  invite  your  friend  the  Jew." 

The  next  day  the  traveller  prepared  a  feast  and  invited  the 
Jew.  During  this  time  the  brother  of  the  traveller  ran  to  a 
neighboring  mountain,  where  he  captured  a  monkey.  During 
the  night  he  entered  the  house  of  the  Jew  and  found  a  child  in 
the  cradle.  He  took  the  child  away  and  put  the  monkey  in  its 
place.  When  day  had  come  the  mother  perceived  the  monkey 
tied  in  the  cradle.  She  called  her  husband  with  loud  cries,  and 
said  to  him : 

"  See  how  God  has  punished  us  for  having  stolen  your 
friend's  gold.  Our  child  is  changed  into  a  monkey.  Give 
back  the  stolen  property." 

They  immediately  had  the  traveller  summoned,  and  re- 
turned his  gold  to  him.  The  next  night  the  child  was  taken 
back  to  the  cradle  and  the  monkey  was  set  free.  As  I  can  go 
no  further,  may  God  exterminate  the  jackal  and  pardon  all 
our  sins ! 

THE   SHEIK'S   HEAD 

A  man  died,  leaving  a  son.  The  child  spent  day  and  night 
with  his  mother.  The  sheik  chanted  a  prayer  every  morning 
and  waked  him  up.  The  child  went  to  find  the  sheik,  and 
said: 

"  Ali  Sheik,  do  not  sing  so  loudly,  you  wake  us  up  every 
morning — my  mother  and  me." 

But  the  sheik  kept  on  singing.  The  child  went  to  the 
mosque  armed  with  a  club.  At  the  moment  when  the  sheik 
bowed  to  pray  he  struck  him  a  blow  and  killed  him.  He  ran 
to  his  mother,  and  said  to  her : 

"  I  have  killed  that  sheik ;  come,  let  us  bury  him." 

They  cut  off  his  head  and  buried  his  body.  The  child  went 
to  the  Thadjeinath,  where  the  men  of  the  village  were  assem- 
bled. In  his  absence  his  mother  killed  a  sheep.  She  took  the 
head  and  buried  it  in  place  of  the  sheik's  head.  The  child  ar- 
rived at  the  Thadjeinath  and  said  to  those  present : 

"  I  have  killed  the  sheik  who  waked  us  up  every  morning." 


THE   FLUTE-PLAYER  255 

"  It  is  a  lie,"  said  they. 

"  Come  to  my  mother's  house  and  we  will  show  you  where 
we  buried  his  head."  They  went  to  the  house,  and  the  mother 
said  to  them : 

"  Ali  Sidi,  this  child  is  mad.  It  is  a  sheep  that  we  have 
killed.  Come  and  see  where  we  buried  its  head."  They  went 
to  the  spot,  dug,  and  found  a  sheep's  head. 


THE  WAGTAIL  AND  THE  JACKAL 

At  the  time  when  all  the  animals  spoke,  a  wagtail  laid  her 
eggs  on  the  ground.  The  little  ones  grew  up.  A  jackal  and 
a  fox  came  to  them.  The  jackal  said  to  the  fox : 

"  Swear  to  me  that  the  wagtail  owes  me  a  pound  of  butter." 

The  fox  swore  to  it.  The  bird  began  to  weep.  A  grey- 
hound came  to  her  and  asked  her  what  was  the  matter.  She 
answered  him : 

"  The  fox  has  calumniated  me." 

"  Well,"  said  the  hound,  "  put  me  in  this  sack  of  skin." 

She  put  him  in  the  sack.  "  Tie  up  the  top  well,"  said  the 
hound.  When  the  jackal  returned  she  said  to  him : 

"  Come  and  measure  out  the  butter." 

The  jackal  advanced  and  unfastened  the  sack.  He  saw  the 
hound,  who  stretched  out  his  paws  and  said  to  the  fox : 

"  I  am  ill ;  come  and  measure,  fox." 

The  fox  approached.  The  hound  seized  him.  The  jackal 
said,  "  Remember  your  false  testimony." 

THE   FLUTE-PLAYER 

A  servant  tended  the  sheep  of  his  master.  Arrived  in  the 
meadow,  he  played  the  flute.  The  sheep  heard  him,  and  would 
not  browse.  One  day  the  master  perceived  that  his  sheep  did 
not  graze.  He  followed  the  servant  to  the  fields  and  hid  him- 
self in  the  bush.  The  shepherd  took  his  flute  and  began  to 
play.  His  master  began  to  dance  so  that  the  bushes  brought 
blood  upon  him.  He  returned  home. 

"  Who  scratched  you  so  ?  "  asked  his  wife. 

"  The  servant  played  on  the  flute,  and  I  began  to  dance." 


256  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

"  That  is  a  lie,"  said  she ;  "  people  don't  dance  against  their 
will." 

"  Well,"  answered  the  husband,  "  tie  me  to  this  post  and 
make  the  servant  play." 

She  tied  him  to  the  post  and  the  servant  took  the  flute. 
Our  man  began  to  dance.  He  struck  his  head  against  a  nail 
in  the  post  and  died.  The  son  of  the  dead  man  said  to  the 
servant : 

"  Pay  me  for  the  loss  of  my  father." 

They  went  before  the  cadi.  On  the  way  they  met  a  laborer, 
who  asked  them  where  they  were  going. 

"  Before  the  cadi." 

"  Could  you  tell  me  why  ?  " 

"  This  man  killed  my  father,"  answered  the  son  of  the  dead 
man. 

"  It  was  not  I  that  killed  him,"  answered  the  shepherd ;  "  I 
played  on  the  flute,  he  danced  and  died." 

"  That  is  a  lie !  "  cried  the  laborer.  "  I  will  not  dance 
against  my  will.  Take  your  flute  and  we  shall  see  if  I  dance." 

The  shepherd  took  his  flute.  He  began  to  play,  and  the 
laborer  started  dancing  with  such  activity  that  his  oxen  left 
to  themselves  fell  into  the  ravine. 

"  Pay  me  for  my  oxen,"  he  cried  to  the  shepherd. 

"  Come  before  the  cadi,"  he  answered.  They  presented 
themselves  before  the  cadi,  who  received  them  on  the  second 
floor  of  the  house.  They  all  sat  down.  Then  the  cadi  said  to 
the  servant : 

"  Take  your  flute  and  play  before  me.  I  will  see  how  you 
play."  The  servant  took  his  flute  and  all  began  to  dance. 
The  cadi  danced  with  the  others,  and  they  all  fell  down  to  the 
ground  floor  and  were  killed.  The  servant  stayed  in  the  house 
of  the  cadi  and  inherited  the  property  of  all. 


THE  CHILD  257 


THE   CHILD 

A  child  had  a  thorn  in  his  foot.    He  went  to  an  old  woman 
and  said  to  her: 

"  Take  out  this  thorn  for  me." 

The  old  woman  took  out  the  thorn  and  threw  it  away. 

"  Give  me  my  thorn,"  and  he  began  to  cry. 

"  Take  an  egg." 

He  went  to  another  old  woman,  "  Hide  me  this  egg." 

"  Put  it  in  the  hen's  nest." 

In  the  night  he  took  his  egg  and  ate  it.    The  next  day  he 
said  to  the  old  woman :   "  Give  me  my  egg." 

"  Take  the  hen,"  she  answered. 

He  went  to  another  old  woman,  "  Hide  my  hen  for  me." 

"  Put  her  on  the  stake  to  which  I  tie  my  he-goat." 

At  night  he  took  away  the  hen.    The  next  morning  he  de- 
manded his  hen. 

"  Look  for  her  where  you  hid  her." 

"  Give  me  my  hen." 

"  Take  the  he-goat." 

He  went  to  another  old  woman,  "  O  old  woman,  hide  this 
goat  for  me." 

"  Tie  him  to  the  sheep's  crib." 

During  the  night  he  took  away  the  buck.    The  next  day  he 
claimed  the  buck. 

"  Take  the  sheep." 

He  went  to  another  old  woman,  "  O  old  woman,  keep  my 
sheep  for  me." 

"  Tie  him  to  the  foot  of  the  calf." 

During  the  night  he  took  away  the  sheep.    Next  morning 
he  demanded  his  sheep. 

"  Take  the  calf." 

He  went  to  another  old  woman,  "  Keep  my  calf  for  me." 

"  Tie  him  to  the  cow's  manger." 

In  the  night  he  took  away  the  calf.    The  next  morning  he 
asked  for  his  calf. 

"  Take  the  cow." 

He  went  to  another  old  woman,  "  Keep  my  cow  for  me.'* 

"  Tie  her  to  the  foot  of  the  old  woman's  bed." 
17 


258  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

In  the  night  he  took  away  the  cow.  The  next  morning  he 
demanded  his  cow. 

"  Take  the  old  woman." 

He  went  to  another  old  woman  and  left  the  old  dame,  whom 
he  killed  during  the  night.  The  next  morning  he  demanded 
his  old  woman. 

"  There  she  is  by  the  young  girl." 

He  found  her  dead. 

"  Give  me  my  old  woman." 

"  Take  the  young  girl." 

He  said  to  her :  "  From  the  thorn  to  the  egg,  from  the  egg 
to  the  hen,  from  the  hen  to  the  buck,  from  the  buck  to  the 
sheep,  from  the  sheep  to  the  calf,  from  the  calf  to  the  cow, 
from  the  cow  to  the  old  woman,  from  the  old  woman  to  the 
young  girl,  and  now  come  and  marry  me." 

THE  MONKEY  AND  THE  FISHERMAN 

A  fisherman  went  one  day  to  the  sea  to  catch  some  fish. 
In  the  evening  he  sold  his  catch,  and  bought  a  little  loaf  of 
bread,  on  which  he  made  his  supper.  The  next  day  he  re- 
turned to  his  fishing  and  found  a  chest.  He  took  it  to  his 
house  and  opened  it.  Out  jumped  a  monkey  and  said  to  him : 
"  Bad  luck  to  you.  I  am  not  the  only  one  to  conquer.  You 
may  bewail  your  sad  lot." 

"  My  lot  is  unbearable,"  he  answered.  The  next  day  he 
returned  to  his  fishing.  The  monkey  climbed  to  the  roof  of 
the  house  and  sat  there.  A  moment  afterward  he  cut  all  the 
roses  of  the  garden.  The  daughter  of  the  King  saw  him,  and 
said  to  him : 

"  O  Sidi  Mahomet,  what  are  you  doing  there  ?  Come  here, 
I  need  you." 

He  took  a  rose  and  approached. 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  "  asked  the  princess. 

"  With  the  son  of  the  Sultan  of  India,"  answered  the 
monkey. 

"  Tell  him  to  buy  me." 

"  I  will  tell  him,  provided  he  will  accept." 

The  next  day  he  stayed  in  the  house  and  tore  his  face.  The 
princess  called  him  again.  The  monkey  brought  her  a  rose. 


THE   MONKEY  AND   THE   FISHERMAN  259 

"  Who  put  you  in  that  condition  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  It  was  the  son  of  the  Sultan  of  India,"  answered  the  mon- 
key. "  When  I  told  him  to  buy  you  he  gave  me  a  blow." 

The  princess  gave  him  100  ecus,  and  he  went  away.  The 
next  day  he  scratched  his  face  worse  and  climbed  on  the  house. 
The  daughter  of  the  King  called  him : 

"  Sidi  Mahomet !  " 

"Well?" 

"  Come  here.    What  did  you  say  to  him  ?  " 

"  I  told  him  to  buy  you,  and  he  gave  me  another  blow." 

"  Since  this  is  so,  come  and  find  me  to-morrow." 

The  next  day  the  monkey  took  the  fisherman  to  a  shop  and 
bought  him  some  clothes.  He  took  him  to  the  baths  and 
made  him  bathe.  Then  he  went  along  the  road  and  cried : 

"  Flee,  flee,  here  is  the  son  of  the  Sultan  of  India !  " 

They  went  into  a  coffee-house,  and  Si  Mahomet  ordered 
two  coffees.  They  drank  their  coffees,  gave  an  ecu  to  the 
proprietor,  and  went  out.  While  going  toward  the  palace  Si 
Mahomet  said  to  the  fisherman : 

"  Here  we  are  at  the  house  of  your  father-in-law.  When 
he  serves  us  to  eat,  eat  little.  When  he  offers  us  coffee,  drink 
only  a  little  of  it.  You  will  find  silken  rugs  stretched  on  the 
floor;  keep  on  your  sandals." 

When  they  arrived  the  fisherman  took  off  his  sandals.  The 
King  offered  them  something  to  eat;  the  fisherman  ate  a 
great  deal.  He  offered  them  some  coffee,  and  the  fisherman 
did  not  leave  a  drop  of  it.  They  went  out.  When  they  were 
outside  the  palace  Si  Mahomet  said  to  the  fisherman : 

"  Jew  of  a  fisherman,  you  are  lucky  that  I  do  not  scratch 
your  face." 

They  returned  to  their  house.  Si  Mahomet  climbed  upon 
the  roof.  The  daughter  of  the  King  perceived  him,  and  said : 

"  Come  here." 

The  monkey  approached. 

"  Truly  you  have  lied.  Why  did  you  tell  me  that  the  son 
of  the  Sultan  of  India  was  a  distinguished  person  ?  " 

"  Is  he  a  worthless  fellow?  " 

"  We  furnished  the  room  with  silken  rugs,  he  took  off  his 
sandals.  We  gave  him  food,  and  he  ate  like  a  servant.  We 
offered  him  some  coffee,  and  he  licked  his  fingers." 


260  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

The  monkey  answered :  "  We  had  just  come  out  of  the  cof- 
fee-house. He  had  taken  too  much  wine  and  was  drunken, 
and  not  master  of  himself.  That  is  why  he  ate  so  much." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  princess,  "  come  to  the  palace  again 
to-morrow,  but  do  not  take  him  to  the  coffee-house  first." 

The  next  day  they  set  out.  On  the  way  the  monkey  said 
to  the  fisherman :  "  Jew  of  a  fisherman,  if  to-day  you  take  off 
your  sandals  or  eat  too  much  or  drink  all  your  coffee,  look 
out  for  yourself.  Drink  a  little  only,  or  I  will  Scratch  your 
eyes  out." 

They  arrived  at  the  palace.  The  fisherman  walked  on  the 
silken  rugs  with  his  sandals.  They  gave  him  something  to  eat, 
and  he  ate  little.  They  brought  him  some  coffee,  and  he 
hardly  tasted  it.  The  King  gave  him  his  daughter.  Si  Ma- 
homet said  to  the  King : 

"  The  son  of  the  Sultan  of  India  has  quarrelled  with  his 
father,  so  he  only  brought  one  chest  of  silver." 

In  the  evening  the  monkey  and  the  fisherman  went  out  for 
a  walk.  The  fisherman  said  to  Si  Mahomet: 

"  Is  it  here  that  we  are  going  to  find  the  son  of  the  Sultan 
of  India?" 

"  I  can  show  him  to  you  easily,"  answered  the  monkey. 
"  To-morrow  I  will  find  you  seated.  I  will  approach,  weep- 
ing, with  a  paper  in  my  hands ;  I  will  give  you  the  paper,  and 
you  must  read  it  and  burst  into  tears.  Your  father-in-law 
will  ask  you  why  you  weep  so.  Answer  him :  '  My  father  is 
dead.  Here  is  the  letter  I  have  just  received.  If  you  have 
finally  determined  to  give  me  your  daughter,  I  will  take  her 
away  and  we  will  go  to  pay  the  last  duties  to  my  father.'  " 

"  Take  her,"  said  the  King.  He  gave  him  an  escort  of 
horsemen  and  soldiers.  Arriving  at  the  place,  Si  Mahomet 
said  to  the  soldiers : 

"  You  may  return  to  the  palace,  for  our  country  is  far  from 
here." 

The  escort  went  back  to  the  palace,  and  the  travellers  con- 
tinued on  their  journey.  Soon  Si  Mahomet  said  to  the  fisher- 
man :  "  Stay  here  till  I  go  and  look  at  the  country  of  your 
father."  He  started,  and  arrived  at  the  gates  of  a  city  he 
found  closed  he  mounted  upon  the  ramparts.  An  ogress  per- 
ceived him,  "  I  salute  you,  Si  Mahomet." 


THE  TWO    FRIENDS  261 

"  May  God  curse  you,  sorceress !  Come,  I  am  going  to 
your  house." 

"What  do  you  want  of  me,  Si  Mahomet?" 

"  They  are  seeking  to  kill  you." 

"  Where  can  I  hide  ?  "  He  put  her  in  the  powder-house  of 
the  city,  shut  the  door  on  her,  and  set  the  powder  on  fire. 
The  ogress  died.  He  came  back  to  the  fisherman. 

"  Forward,"  he  said.  They  entered  the  city  and  established 
themselves  there.  One  day  Si  Mahomet  fell  ill  and  died. 
The  two  spouses  put  him  in  a  coffin  lined  with  silk  and  buried 
him.  My  story  is  told. 


THE   TWO   FRIENDS 

Sidi  El-Marouf  and  Sidi  Abd-el-Tadu  were  travelling  in 
company.  Toward  evening  they  separated  to  find  a  resting- 
place.  Sidi  Abd-el-Tadu  said  to  his  friend: 

"  Let  us  say  a  prayer,  that  God  may  preserve  us  from  the 
evil  which  we  have  never  committed." 

Sidi  El-Marouf  answered,  "  Yes,  may  God  preserve  us  from 
the  evil  that  we  have  not  done !  " 

They  went  toward  the  houses,  each  his  own  way.  Sidi  El- 
Marouf  presented  himself  at  a  door.  "  Can  you  entertain  a 
traveller?" 

"  You  are  welcome,"  said  a  woman  to  him.  "  Enter,  you 
may  remain  for  the  night." 

Night  came.  He  took  his  supper.  The  woman  spread  a 
mat  on  the  floor  and  he  went  to  sleep.  The  woman  and  her 
husband  slept  also.  When  all  was  quiet,  the  woman  got  up, 
took  a  knife,  and  killed  her  husband.  The  next  day  at  dawn 
she  began  to  cry : 

"  He  has  killed  my  husband !  " 

The  whole  village  ran  up  to  the  house  and  seized  the 
stranger.  They  bound  him,  and  everyone  brought  wood  to 
burn  the  guilty  man. 

Sidi  Abd-el-Tadu  came  also,  and  saw  his  friend  in  tears. 
"  What  have  you  done  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  have  done  no  evil,"  answered  Sidi  El-Marouf. 

"Did  I  not  tell  you  yesterday,"  said   Sidi  Abd-el-Tadu, 


26a  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

"  that  we  would  say  the  prayer  that  God  should  preserve  us 
from  the  evil  we  had  never  committed?  And  now  you  will 
be  burned  for  a  crime  of  which  you  are  innocent ! " 

Sidi  El-Marouf  answered  him,  "  Bring  the  woman  here." 

"  Did  he  really  kill  your  husband  ?  "  asked  Sidi  Abd-el- 
Tadu. 

"  He  killed  him,"  she  replied. 

There  was  a  bird  on  a  tree  nearby.  Sidi  Abd-el-Tadu  asked 
the  bird.  The  bird  answered : 

"  It  was  the  woman  who  killed  her  husband.  Feel  in  her 
hair  and  you  will  find  the  knife  she  used." 

They  searched  her  hair  and  found  the  knife  still  covered 
with  blood,  which  gave  evidence  of  the  crime.  The  truth  was 
known  and  innocence  was  defended.  God  avenged  the  injus- 
tice. 


THE   ROBBER   AND   THE  TWO   PILGRIMS 

Two  robbers  spent  their  time  in  robbing.  One  of  them  got 
married,  and  the  other  continued  his  trade.  They  were  a  long 
time  without  seeing  each  other.  Finally  the  one  who  was  not 
married  went  to  visit  his  friend,  and  said  to  him : 

"  If  your  wife  has  a  daughter,  you  must  give  her  to  me." 

"  I  will  give  her  to  you  seven  days  after  her  birth." 

The  daughter  was  born,  and  the  robber  took  her  to  bring 
up  in  the  country.  He  built  a  house,  bought  flocks,  and 
tended  them  himself.  One  day  some  pilgrims  came  to  the 
house.  He  killed  a  cow  for  them  and  entertained  them.  The 
next  day  he  accompanied  them  on  their  pilgrimage.  The  pil- 
grims said  to  him : 

"  If  you  come  with  us,  two  birds  will  remain  with  your 
wife." 

The  woman  stayed  in  the  country.  One  day  the  son  of  the 
Sultan  came  that  way  to  hunt.  One  of  the  birds  saw  him  and 
said  to  the  woman,  "  Don't  open  the  door."  The  prince  heard 
the  bird  speak,  and  returned  to  the  palace  without  saying  a 
word.  An  old  woman  was  called  to  cast  spells  over  him,  and 
said  to  the  King : 

"  He  could  not  see  a  woman  he  has  never  seen," 


THE  ROBBER  AND   THE  TWO   PILGRIMS  263 

The  prince  spoke  and  said  to  her :  "  If  you  will  come  with 
me,  I  will  bring  her  here."  They  arrived. 

The  old  dame  called  the  young  woman,  "  Come  out,  that 
we  may  see  you." 

She  said  to  the  bird,  "  I  am  going  to  open  the  door." 

The  bird  answered :  "  If  you  open  the  door  you  will  meet 
the  same  fate  as  Si  El-Ahcen.  He  was  reading  with  many 
others  in  the  mosque.  One  day  he  found  an  amulet.  His 
betrothed  went  no  longer  to  school,  and  as  she  was  old  enough 
he  married  her.  Some  days  after  he  said  to  his  father, '  Watch 
over  my  wife.'  '  Fear  nothing,'  answered  the  father. 

"  He  started,  and  came  back.  '  Watch  over  my  wife,'  he 
said  to  his  father  again.  '  Fear  nothing,'  repeated  his  father. 
The  latter  went  to  the  market.  On  his  return  he  said  to  his 
daughter-in-law,  '  There  were  very  beautiful  women  in  the 
market.'  '  I  surpass  them  all  in  beauty,'  said  the  woman ; 
'  take  me  to  the  market.' 

"  A  man  offered  1,000  francs  for  her.  The  father-in-law  re- 
fused, and  said  to  her :  '  Sit  down  on  the  mat.  The  one  that 
covers  you  with  silver  may  have  you.'  A  man  advanced. 
'  If  you  want  to  marry  her,'  said  her  father-in-law,  '  cover  her 
with  silver,  and  she  will  be  your  wife.' 

"  Soon  Si  El-Ahcen  returned  from  his  journey  and  asked 
if  his  wife  were  still  living.  '  Your  wife  is  dead,'  said  his 
father ;  '  she  fell  from  her  mule.'  Si  El-Ahcen  threw  himself 
on  the  ground.  They  tried  to  lift  him  up.  It  was  useless 
trouble.  He  remained  stretched  on  the  earth. 

"  One  day  a  merchant  came  to  the  village  and  said  to  him, 
'  The  Sultan  married  your  wife.'  She  had  said  to  the  mer- 
chant, '  The  day  that  you  leave  I  will  give  you  a  message.' 
She  wrote  a  letter  to  her  husband,  and  promised  the  bearer  a 
flock  of  sheep  if  he  would  deliver  it. 

"  Si  El-Ahcen  received  the  letter,  read  it,  was  cured,  ran 
to  the  house,  and  said  to  his  father :  *  My  wife  has  married 
again  in  my  absence ;  she  is  not  dead.  I  brought  home  much 
money.  I  will  take  it  again.' 

"  He  took  his  money  and  went  to  the  city  where  his  wife 
lived.  He  stopped  at  the  gates.  To  the  first  passer-by  he 
gave  five  francs,  to  the  second  five  more. 

"'What  do  you  want,  O  stranger?'  they  asked.    'If  you 


264  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

want  to  see  the  Sultan  we  will  take  you  to  him.'  They  pre- 
sented him  to  the  Sultan. 

"'Render  justice  to  this  man.'  'What  does  he  want?' 
'  My  lord,'  answered  Sidi  El-Ahcen,  '  the  woman  you  married 
is  my  wife.'  '  Kill  him ! '  cried  the  Sultan.  '  No,'  said  the 
witnesses,  '  let  him  have  justice.' 

"  '  Let  him  tell  me  if  she  carries  an  object.'  Si  El-Ahcen 
answered :  '  This  woman  was  betrothed  to  me  before  her 
birth.  An  amulet  is  hidden  in  her  hair.'  He  took  away  his 
wife,  returned  to  the  village,  and  gave  a  feast. 

"  If  you  open  the  door,"  continued  the  bird,  "  you  will  have 
the  same  fate  as  Fatima-ou-Lmelh.  Hamed-ou-Lmelh  mar- 
ried her.  Fatima  said  to  her  father-in-law,  '  Take  me  to  my 
uncle's  house.'  Arriving  there  she  married  another  husband. 
Hamed-ou-Lmelh  was  told  of  this,  and  ran  to  find  her.  At 
the  moment  he  arrived  he  found  the  wedding  over  and  the 
bride  about  to  depart  for  the  house  of  her  new  husband.  Then 
Hamed  burst  into  the  room  and  cast  himself  out  of  the  win- 
dow. Fatima  did  the  same,  and  they  were  both  killed. 

"  The  intended  father-in-law  and  his  family  returned  to  their 
house,  and  were  asked  the  cause  of  the  misfortune.  '  The 
woman  was  the  cause,'  they  answered. 

"  Nevertheless,  the  father  of  Hamed-ou-Lmelh  went  to  the 
parents  of  Fatima  and  said :  '  Pay  us  for  the  loss  of  our  son. 
Pay  us  for  the  loss  of  Fatima.' 

"  They  could  not  agree,  and  went  before  the  justice.  Pass- 
ing by  the  village  where  the  two  spouses  had  died  they  met 
an  old  man,  and  said,  '  Settle  our  dispute.'  '  I  cannot/  an- 
swered the  old  man.  Farther  on  they  met  a  sheep,  which 
was  butting  a  rock.  '  Settle  our  dispute,'  they  said  to  the 
sheep.  '  I  cannot,'  answered  the  sheep.  Farther  on  they  met 
a  serpent.  '  Settle  our  dispute,'  they  said  to  him.  '  I  cannot,' 
answered  the  serpent.  They  met  a  river.  '  Settle  our  dispute,' 
they  said  to  it.  '  I  cannot,'  answered  the  river.  They  met  a 
jackal.  '  Settle  our  dispute,'  they  said  to  him.  '  Go  to  the 
village  where  your  children  died,'  answered  the  jackal.  They 
went  back  to  the  village,  and  applied  to  the  Sultan,  who  had 
them  all  killed." 

The  bird  stopped  speaking,  the  pilgrims  returned.  The  old 
woman  saw  them  and  fled.  The  robber  prepared  a  feast  for 
the  pilgrims, 


THE   LITTLE   CHILD  265 

THE  LITTLE  CHILD 

"  Come,  little  child,  eat  your  dinner." 

"  I  won't  eat  it." 

"  Come,  stick,  beat  the  child." 

"  I  won't  beat  him." 

"  Come,  fire,  burn  the  stick." 

"  I  won't  burn  it." 

"  Come,  water,  quench  the  fire." 

"  I  won't  quench  it." 

"  Come,  ox,  drink  the  water." 

"  I  won't  drink  it." 

"  Come,  knife,  kill  the  ox." 

"  I  won't  kill  him." 

"  Come,  blacksmith,  break  the  knife." 

"  I  won't  break  it." 

"  Come,  strap,  bind  the  blacksmith." 

"  I  won't  bind  him." 

"  Come,  rat,  gnaw  the  strap." 

"  I  won't  gnaw  it." 

"  Come,  cat,  eat  the  rat." 

"  Bring  it  here." 

"Why  eat  me?"  said  the  rat;  "bring  the  strap  and  I'll 
gnaw  it." 

"  Why  gnaw  me  ?  "  said  the  strap ;  "  bring  the  blacksmith 
and  I'll  bind  him." 

"  Why  bind  me  ?  "  said  the  blacksmith ;  "  bring  the  knife 
and  I'll  break  it." 

"Why  break  me?"  said  the  knife;  "bring  the  ox  and  I'll 
kill  him." 

"Why  kill  me?"  said  the  ox;  "bring  the  water  and  I'll 
drink  it." 

"  Why  drink  me?  "  said  the  water;  "  bring  the  fire  and  I'll 
quench  it." 

"  Why  quench  me?  "  said  the  fire;  "  bring  the  stick  and  I'll 
burn  it." 

"  Why  burn  me  ?  "  said  the  stick ;  "  bring  the  child  and 
I'll  strike  him." 

"  Why  strike  me  ?  "  said  the  child ;  "  bring  me  my  dinner 
and  I'll  eat  it." 


266  MOORISH    LITERATURE 


THE   WREN 

A  wren  had  built  its  nest  on  the  side  of  a  road.  When  the 
eggs  were  hatched,  a  camel  passed  that  way.  The  little  wrens 
saw  it,  and  said  to  their  father  when  he  returned  from  the 
fields: 

"  O  papa,  a  gigantic  animal  passed  by." 

The  wren  stretched  out  his  foot.  "  As  big  as.  this,  my  chil- 
dren?" 

"  O  papa,  much  bigger." 

He  stretched  out  his  foot  and  his  wing.  "  As  big  as  this  ?  " 

"O  papa,  much  bigger." 

Finally  he  stretched  out  fully  his  feet  and  legs.  "  As  big  as 
this,  then  ?  " 

"  Much  bigger." 

"  That  is  a  lie ;  there  is  no  animal  bigger  than  I  am." 

"  Well,  wait,"  said  the  little  ones,  "  and  you  will  see."  The 
camel  came  back  while  browsing  the  grass  of  the  roadside. 
The  wren  stretched  himself  out  near  the  nest.  The  camel 
seized  the  bird,  which  passed  through  its  teeth  safe  and  sound. 

"  Truly,"  he  said  to  them,  "  the  camel  is  a  gigantic  animal, 
but  I  am  not  ashamed  of  myself." 

On  the  earth  it  generally  happens  that  the  vain  are  as  if  they 
did  not  exist.  But  sooner  or  later  a  rock  falls  and  crushes 
them. 


THE   MULE,  THE  JACKAL,  AND   THE   LION 

The  mule,  the  jackal,  and  the  lion  went  in  company.  "  We 
will  eat  the  one  whose  race  is  bad,"  they  said  to  each  other. 

"  Lion,  who  is  your  father  ?  " 

"  My  father  is  a  lion  and  my  mother  is  a  lioness." 

"  And  you,  jackal,  what  is  your  father?  " 

"  My  father  is  a  jackal  and  my  mother,  too." 

"  And  you,  mule,  what  is  your  father  ?  " 

"  My  father  is  an  ass,  and  my  mother  is  a  mare." 

"  Your  race  is  bad ;  we  will  eat  you." 

He  answered  them :  "  I  will  consult  an  old  man.  If  he  says 
that  my  race  is  bad,  you  may  devour  me." 


THADHELLALA  267 

He  went  to  a  farrier,  and  said  to  him,  "  Shoe  my  hind  feet, 
and  make  the  nails  stick  out  well." 

He  went  back  home.  He  called  the  camel  and  showed  him 
his  feet,  saying :  "  See  what  is  written  on  this  tablet." 

"  The  writing  is  difficult  to  decipher,"  answered  the  camel. 
"  I  do  not  understand  it,  for  I  only  know  three  words — outini, 
ouzatini,  ouasakin."  He  called  a  lion,  and  said  to  him :  "  I 
do  not  understand  these  letters;  I  only  know  three  words — 
outini,  ouzatini,  ouazakin." 

"  Show  it  to  me,"  said  the  lion.  He  approached.  The  mule 
struck  him  between  the  eyes  and  stretched  him  out  stiff. 

He  who  goes  with  a  knave  is  betrayed  by  him. 


THADHELLALA 

A  woman  had  seven  daughters  and  no  son.  She  went  to 
the  city,  and  there  saw  a  rich  shop.  A  little  farther  on  she 
perceived  at  the  door  of  a  house  a  young  girl  of  great  beauty. 
She  called  her  parents,  and  said : 

"  I  have  my  son  to  marry ;  let  me  have  your  daughter  for 
him." 

They  let  her  take  the  girl  away.  She  came  back  to  the  shop 
and  said  to  the  man  in  charge  of  it : 

"  I  will  gladly  give  you  my  daughter ;  but  go  first  and  con- 
sult your  father." 

The  young  man  left  a  servant  in  his  place  and  departed. 
Thadhellala  (that  was  her  name)  sent  the  servant  to  buy  some 
bread  in  another  part  of  the  city.  Along  came  a  caravan  of 
mules.  Thadhellala  packed  all  the  contents  of  the  shop  on 
their  backs  and  said  to  the  muleteer: 

"  I  will  go  on  ahead ;  my  son  will  come  in  a  moment.  Wait 
for  him — he  will  pay  you." 

She  went  off  with  the  mules  and  the  treasures  which  she 
had  packed  upon  them.  The  servant  came  back  soon. 

"  Where  is  your  mother?  "  cried  the  muleteer;  "  hurry  and 
pay  me." 

"  You  tell  me  where  she  is  and  I  will  make  her  give  me  back 
what  she  has  stolen."  And  they  went  before  the  justice. 

Thadhellala  pursued  her  way,  and  met  seven  young  stu- 


268  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

dents.  She  said  to  one  of  them,  "  A  hundred  francs  and  I  will 
marry  you."  The  student  gave  them  to  her.  She  made  the 
same  offer  to  the  others,  and  each  one  took  her  word. 

Arriving  at  a  fork  in  the  road,  the  first  one  said,  "  I  will  take 
you,"  the  second  one  said,  "  I  will  take  you,"  and  so  on  to  the 
last. 

Thadhellala  answered :  "  You  shall  have  a  race  as  far  as  that 
ridge  over  there,  and  the  one  that  gets  there  first  shall  marry 
me." 

The  young  men  started.  Just  then  a  horseman  came  pass- 
ing by.  "  Lend  me  your  horse,"  she  said  to  him.  The  horse- 
man jumped  off.  Thadhellala  mounted  the  horse  and  said : 

"  You  see  that  ridge?  I  will  rejoin  you  there." 

The  scholars  perceived  the  man.  "  Have  you  not  seen  a 
woman  ?  "  they  asked  him.  "  She  has  stolen  700  francs  from 
us." 

"  Haven't  you  others  seen  her  ?    She  has  stolen  my  horse  ?  " 

They  went  to  complain  to  the  Sultan,  who  gave  the  com- 
mand to  arrest  Thadhellala.  A  man  promised  to  seize  her. 
He  secured  a  comrade,  and  they  both  pursued  Thadhellala, 
who  had  taken  flight.  Nearly  overtaken  by  the  man,  she  met 
a  negro  who  pulled  teeth,  and  said  to  him : 

"  You  see  my  son  coming  down  there ;  pull  out  his  teeth." 
When  the  other  passed  the  negro  pulled  out  his  teeth.  The 
poor  toothless  one  seized  the  negro  and  led  him  before  the 
Sultan  to  have  him  punished.  The  negro  said  to  the  Sultan : 
"  It  was  his  mother  that  told  me  to  pull  them  out  for 
hm." 

"  Sidi,"  said  the  accuser,  "  I  was  pursuing  Thadhellala." 

The  Sultan  then  sent  soldiers  in  pursuit  of  the  woman,  who 
seized  her  and  hung  her  up  at  the  gates  of  the  city.  Seeing 
herself  arrested,  she  sent  a  messenger  to  her  relatives. 

Then  there  came  by  a  man  who  led  a  mule.  Seeing  her  he 
said,  "  How  has  this  woman  deserved  to  be  hanged  in  this 
way?" 

"  Take  pity  on  me,"  said  Thadhellala ;  "  give  rne  your  mule 
and  I  will  show  you  a  treasure."  She  sent  him  to  a  certain 
place  where  the  pretended  treasure  was  supposed  to  be  hid- 
den. At  this  the  brother-in-law  of  Thadhellala  had  arrived. 

"  Take  away  this  mule,"  she  said  to  him.    The  searcher  for 


THE  GOOD  MAN  AND  THE  BAD  ONE      269 

treasures  dug  in  the  earth  at  many  places  and  found  nothing. 
He  came  back  to  Thadhellala  and  demanded  his  mule. 

She  began  to  weep  and  cry.  The  sentinel  ran  up,  and  Thad- 
hellala brought  complaint  against  this  man.  She  was  released, 
and  he  was  hanged  in  her  place. 

She  fled  to  a  far  city,  of  which  the  Sultan  had  just  then  died. 
Now,  according-  to  the  custom  of  that  country,  they  took  as 
king  the  person  who  happened  to  be  at  the  gates  of  the  city 
when  the  King  died.  Fate  took  Thadhellala  there  at  the  right 
time.  They  conducted  her  to  the  palace,  and  she  was  pro- 
claimed Queen. 


THE  GOOD  MAN  AND  THE  BAD  ONE 

Two  men,  one  good  and  the  other  bad,  started  out  together 
to  do  business,  and  took  provisions  with  them.  Soon  the  bad 
one  said  to  the  good  one :  "  I  am  hungry ;  give  me  some  of 
your  food."  He  gave  him  some,  and  they  both  ate. 

They  went  on  again  till  they  were  hungry.  "  Give  me  some 
of  your  food,"  said  the  bad  one.  He  gave  him  some  of  it,  and 
they  ate. 

They  went  on  until  they  were  hungry.  "  Give  me  some  of 
your  food,"  said  the  bad  one.  He  gave  him  some,  and  they 
ate. 

They  went  on  until  they  were  hungry.  The  good  man  said 
to  his  companion :  "  Give  me  some  of  your  food." 

"  Oh,  no,  my  dear,"  said  the  bad  one. 

"  I  beg  you  to  give  me  some  of  your  food,"  said  the  good 
one. 

"  Let  me  pluck  out  one  of  your  eyes,"  answered  the  bad  one. 
He  consented.  The  bad  one  took  his  pincers  and  took  out  one 
of  his  eyes. 

They  went  on  until  they  came  to  a  certain  place.  Hunger 
pressed  them.  "  Give  me  some  of  your  food,"  said  the  good 
man. 

"  Let  me  pluck  out  your  other  eye,"  answered  his  com- 
panion. 

"  O  my  dear,"  replied  the  good  man,  "  leave  it  to  me,  I  beg 
of  you." 


2  7o  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

"No !  "  responded  the  bad  one ;  "  no  eye,  no  food." 

But  finally  he  said,  "  Pluck  it  out." 

They  proceeded  until  they  came  to  a  certain  place.  When 
hunger  pressed  them  anew  the  bad  one  abandoned  his  com- 
panion. 

A  bird  came  passing  by,  and  said  to  him :  "  Take  a  leaf  of 
this  tree  and  apply  it  to  your  eyes."  He  took  a  leaf  of  the  tree, 
applied  it  to  his  eyes,  and  was  healed.  He  arose,  continued 
on  his  way,  and  arrived  at  a  city  where  he  found  the  one  who 
had  plucked  out  his  eyes. 

"Who  cured  you?" 

"  A  bird  passed  near  me,"  said  the  good  man.  "  He  said  to 
me,  '  Take  a  leaf  of  this  tree.'  I  took  it,  applied  it  to  my  eyes, 
and  was  cured. 

The  good  man  found  the  King  of  the  city  blind. 

"  Give  me  back  my  sight  and  I  will  give  you  my  daugh- 
ter." 

He  restored  his  sight  to  him,  and  the  King  gave  him  his 
daughter.  The  good  man  took  his  wife  to  his  house.  Every 
morning  he  went  to  present  his  respects  to  the  King,  and 
kissed  his  head.  One  day  he  fell  ill.  He  met  the  bad  one,  who 
said  to  him : 

"  Eat  an  onion  and  you  will  be  cured ;  but  when  you  kiss  the 
King's  head,  turn  your  head  aside  or  the  King  will  notice 
your  breath  and  will  kill  you." 

After  these  words  he  ran  to  the  King  and  said :  "  O  King, 
your  son-in-law  disdains  you." 

"  O  my  dear,"  answered  the  King,  "  my  son-in-law  does  not 
disdain  me." 

"  Watch  him,"  answered  the  bad  one ;  "  when  he  comes  to 
kiss  your  head  he  will  turn  away  from  you." 

The  King  remarked  that  his  son-in-law  did  turn  away  on 
kissing  his  head. 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  he  said  to  him.  Immediately  he  wrote 
a  letter  to  the  Sultan,  and  gave  it  to  his  son-in-law,  command- 
ing him  to  carry  it  to  the  Sultan.  Going  out  of  the  house  he 
met  the  bad  one,  who  wanted  to  carry  the  letter  himself.  The 
good  man  gave  it  to  him.  The  Sultan  read  the  letter,  and  had 
the  bad  one's  head  cut  off.  The  good  man  returned  to  the 
King. 


THE  CROW  AND  THE  CHILD  271 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  "  asked  the  King. 

"  Ah,  Sidi,  I  met  a  man  who  wanted  to  carry  the  letter.  I 
intrusted  it  to  him  and  he  took  it  to  the  Sultan,  who  con- 
demned him  to  death  in  the  city." 


THE  CROW  AND  THE  CHILD 

A  man  had  two  wives.  He  was  a  rich  merchant.  One  of 
them  had  a  son  whose  forehead  was  curved  with  a  forelock. 
Her  husband  said  to  her: 

"  Don't  work  any  more,  but  only  take  care  of  the  child. 
The  other  wife  will  do  all  the  work." 

One  day  he  went  to  market.  The  childless  wife  said  to  the 
other,  "  Go,  get  some  water." 

"  No,"  she  answered,  "  our  husband  does  not  want  me  to 
work." 

"  Go,  get  some  water,  I  tell  you."  And  the  woman  went 
to  the  fountain.  On  the  way  she  met  a  crow  half  dead  with 
fatigue.  A  merchant  who  was  passing  took  it  up  and  carried 
it  away.  He  arrived  before  the  house  of  the  woman  who  had 
gone  to  the  fountain,  and  there  found  the  second  woman. 

"  Give  something  to  this  crow,"  demanded  the  merchant. 

"  Give  it  to  me,"  she  answered,  "  and  I  will  make  you  rich." 

"  What  will  you  give  me  ?  "  asked  the  merchant. 

"  A  child,"  replied  the  woman. 

The  merchant  refused,  and  said  to  her,  "  Where  did  you  steal 
it?" 

"  From  whom  did  I  steal  it  ?  "  she  cried.  "  It  is  my  own 
son." 

"  Bring  him." 

She  brought  the  child  to  him,  and  the  merchant  left  her  the 
crow  and  took  the  boy  to  his  home  and  soon  became  very, 
rich.  The  mother  came  back  from  the  fountain.  The  other 
woman  said : 

"  Where  is  your  son  ?  Listen,  he  is  crying,  that  son  of 
yours." 

"  He  is  not  crying,"  she  answered. 

"  You  don't  know  how  to  amuse  him.  I'll  go  and  take 
him." 


272 


MOORISH    LITERATURE 


"  Leave  him  alone,"  said  the  mother.    "  He  is  asleep." 

They  ground  some  wheat,  and  the  child  did  not  appear  to 
wake  up. 

At  this  the  husband  returned  from  the  market  and  said  to 
the  mother,  "  Why  don't  you  busy  yourself  looking  after  your 
son  ?  "  Then  she  arose  to  take  him,  and  found  a  crow  in  the 
cradle.  The  other  woman  cried: 

"  This  is  the  mother  of  a  crow !  Take  it  into  the  other 
house;  sprinkle  it  with  hot  water."  She  went  to  the  other 
house  and  poured  hot  water  on  the  crow. 

Meanwhile,  the  child  called  the  merchant  his  father  and  the 
merchant's  wife  his  mother.  One  day  the  merchant  set  off 
on  a  journey.  His  mother  brought  some  food  to  him  in  the 
room  where  he  was  confined. 

"  My  son,"  she  said,  "  will  you  promise  not  to  betray  me  ?  " 

"  You  are  my  mother,"  answered  the  child ;  "  I  will  not  be- 
tray you." 

"  Only  promise  me." 

"  I  ^promise  not  to  betray  you." 

"  Well,  know  that  I  am  not  your  mother  and  my  husband  is 
not  your  father." 

The  merchant  came  home  from  his  journey  and  took  the 
child  some  food,  but  he  would  not  eat  it. 

"  Why  won't  you  eat  ?  "  asked  the  merchant.  "  Could  your 
mother  have  been  here?" 

"  No,"  answered  the  child,  "  she  has  not  been  here." 

The  merchant  went  to  his  wife  and  said  to  her,  "  Could  you 
have  gone  up  to  the  child's  chamber  ?  " 

The  woman  answered,  "  I  did  not  go  up  to  the  room." 

The  merchant  carried  food  to  the  child,  who  said :  "  For 
the  love  of  God,  I  adjure  you  to  tell  me  if  you  are  my  father 
and  if  your  wife  is  my  mother." 

The  merchant  answered :  "  My  son,  I  am  not  your  father 
and  my  wife  is  not  your  mother." 

The  child  said  to  her,  "  Prepare  us  some  food." 

When  she  had  prepared  the  food  the  child  mounted  a  horse 
and  the  merchant  a  mule.  They  proceeded  a  long  way,  and 
arrived  at  the  village  of  which  the  real  father  of  the  child  was 
the  chief.  They  entered  his  house.  They  gave  food  to  the 
child,  and  said,  "  Eat." 


H'AB  SLIMAN 


273 


"  I  will  not  eat  until  the  other  woman  comes  up  here." 

"  Eat.    She  is  a  bad  woman." 

"  No,  let  her  come  up."  They  called  her.  The  merchant 
ran  to  the  child. 

"  Why  do  you  act  thus  toward  her  ?  " 

"  Oh ! "  cried  those  present,  "  she  had  a  child  that  was 
changed  into  a  crow." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  the  merchant ;  "  but  the  child  Had  a 
mark." 

"  Yes,  he  had  one." 

"  Well,  if  we  find  it,  we  shall  recognize  the  child.  Put  out 
the  lamp."  They  put  it  out.  The  child  threw  off  its  hood. 
They  lighted  the  lamp  again. 

"  Rejoice,"  cried  the  child,  "  I  am  your  son !  " 

H'AB   SLIMAN 

A  man  had  a  boy  and  a  girl.  Their  mother  died  and  he 
took  another  wife.  The  little  boy  stayed  at  school  until 
evening.  The  school-master  asked  them : 

"  What  do  your  sisters  do  ?  " 

One  answered,  "  She  makes  bread." 

A  second,  "  She  goes  to  fetch  water." 

A  third,  "  She  prepares  the  couscous." 

When  he  questioned  H'ab  Sliman,  the  child  played  deaf, 
the  master  struck  him.  One  day  his  sister  said  to  him : 
"  What  is  the  matter,  O  my  brother  ?  You  seem  to  be  sad." 

"  Our  schoolmaster  punishes  us,"  answered  the  child. 

"  And  why  does  he  punish  you  ?  "  inquired  the  young  girl. 

The  child  replied :  "  After  we  have  studied  until  evening 
he  asks  each  of  us  what  our  sisters  do.  They  answer  him : 
she  kneads  bread,  she  goes  to  get  water.  But  when  he  ques- 
tions me  I  have  nothing  to  say,  and  he  beats  me." 

"  Is  it  nothing  but  for  that?" 

"  That  is  all." 

"  Well,"  added  the  young  girl,  "  the  next  time  he  asks  you, 
answer  him :  '  This  is  what  my  sister  does :  When  she  laughs 
the  sun  shines ;  when  she  weeps  it  rains ;  when  she  combs 
her  hair,  legs  of  mutton  fall;  when  she  goes  from  one  place 
to  another,  roses  drop.' ''' 


274  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

The  child  gave  that  answer. 

"  Truly,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  "  that  is  a  rich  match." 
A  few  days  after  he  bought  her,  and  they  made  preparations 
for  her  departure  for  the  house  of  her  husband.  The  step- 
mother of  the  young  girl  made  her  a  little  loaf  of  salt  bread. 
She  ate  it  and  asked  some  drink  from  her  sister,  the  daughter 
of  her  stepmother. 

"  Let  me  pluck  out  one  of  your  eyes,"  said  the  sister. 

"  Pluck  it  out,"  said  the  promised  bride,  "  for  our  people 
are  already  on  the  way." 

The  stepmother  gave  her  to  drink  and  plucked  out  one  of 
her  eyes. 

"A  little  more,"  she  said. 

"  Let  me  take  out  your  other  eye,"  answered  the  cruel 
woman. 

The  young  girl  drank  and  let  her  pluck  out  the  other  eye. 
Scarcely  had  she  left  the  house  than  the  stepmother  thrust 
her  out  on  the  road.  She  dressed  her  own  daughter  and  put 
her  in  the  place  of  the  blind  one.  They  arrive. 

"  Comb  yourself,"  they  told  her,  and  there  fell  dust. 

"  Walk,"  and  nothing  happened. 

"  Laugh,"  and  her  front  teeth  fell  out. 

All  cried,  "Hang  H'ab  Sliman!" 

Meanwhile  some  crows  came  flying  near  the  young  blind 
girl,  and  one  said  to  her :  "  Some  merchants  are  on  the  point 
of  passing  this  way.  Ask  them  for  a  little  wool,  and  I  will 
restore  your  sight." 

The  merchants  came  up  and  the  blind  girl  asked  them  for 
a  little  wool,  and  each  one  of  them  threw  her  a  bit.  The  crow 
descended  near  her  and  restored  her  sight. 

"  Into  what  shall  we  change  you  ?  "  they  asked. 

"  Change  me  into  a  pigeon,"  she  answered. 

The  crows  stuck  a  needle  into  her  head  and  she  was  changed 
into  a  pigeon.  She  took  her  flight  to  the  house  of  the  school- 
master and  perched  upon  a  tree  near  by.  The  people  went 
to  sow  wheat. 

"O  master  of  the  field,"  she  said,  "is  H'ab  Sliman  yet 
hanged?" 

She  began  to  weep,  and  the  rain  fell  until  the  end  of  the 
day's  work. 


H'AB  SLIMAN 


275 


One  day  the  people  of  the  village  went  to  find  a  venerable 
old  man  and  said  to  him : 

"  O  old  man,  a  bird  is  perched  on  one  of  our  trees.  When 
we  go  to  work  the  sky  is  covered  with  clouds  and  it  rains. 
When  the  day's  work  is  done  the  sun  shines." 

"  Go,"  said  the  old  man,  "  put  glue  on  the  branch  where 
it  perches." 

They  put  glue  on  its  branch  and  caught  the  bird.  The 
daughter  of  the  stepmother  said  to  her  mother: 

"  Let  us  kill  it." 

"  No,"  said  a  slave,  "  we  will  amuse  ourselves  with  it." 

"  No ;  kill  it."  And  they  killed  it.  Its  blood  spurted  upon 
a  rose-tree.  The  rose-tree  became  so  large  that  it  overspread 
all  the  village.  The  people  worked  to  cut  it  down  until  even- 
ing, and  yet  it  remained  the  size  of  a  thread. 

"  To-morrow,"  they  said,  "  we  will  finish  it."  The  next 
morning  they  found  it  as  big  as  it  was  the  day  before.  They 
returned  to  the  old  man  and  said  to  him : 

"  O  old  man,  we  caught  the  bird  and  killed  it.  Its  blood 
gushed  upon  a  rose-tree,  which  became  so  large  that  it  over- 
spreads the  whole  village.  Yesterday  we  worked  all  day  to 
cut  it  down.  We  left  it  the  size  of  a  thread.  This  morning 
we  find  it  as  big  as  ever." 

"  O  my  children,"  said  the  old  man,  "  you  are  not  yet  pun- 
ished enough.  Take  H'ab  Sliman,  perhaps  he  will  have  an 
expedient.  Make  him  sleep  at  your  house."  H'ab  Sliman 
said  to  them,  "  Give  me  a  sickle."  Someone  said  to  him : 
"  We  who  are  strong  have  cut  all  day  without  being  able  to 
accomplish  it,  and  do  you  think  you  will  be  capable  of  it? 
Let  us  see  if  you  will  find  a  new  way  to  do  it." 

At  the  moment  when  he  gave  the  first  blow  a  voice  said 
to  him : 

"  Take  care  of  me,  O  my  brother !  " 

The  voice  wept,  the  child  began  to  weep,  and  it  rained. 
H'ab  Sliman  recognized  his  sister. 

"  Laugh,"  he  said.  She  laughed  and  the  sun  shone,  and 
the  people  got  dried. 

"  Comb  yourself,"  and  legs  of  mutton  fell.  All  those  who 
were  present  regaled  themselves  on  them.  "  Walk,"  and 
roses  fell.  "  But  what  is  the  matter  with  you,  my  sister  ?  " 


276  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

"  What  has  happened  to  me." 

"  What  revenge  does  your  heart  desire  ?  " 

"  Attach  the  daughter  of  my  stepmother  to  the  tail  of  a 
horse  that  she  may  be  dragged  in  the  bushes." 

When  the  young  girl  was  dead,  they  took  her  to  the  house, 
cooked  her,  and  sent  her  to  her  mother  and  sister. 

"  O  my  mother,"  cried  the  latter,  "  this  eye  is  that  of  my 
sister  Aftelis." 

"  Eat,  unhappy  one,"  said  the  mother,  "  your  sister  Aftelis 
has  become  the  slave  of  slaves." 

"  But  look  at  it,"  insisted  the  young  girl.  "  You  have  not 
even  looked  at  it.  I  will  give  this  piece  to  the  one  who  will 
weep  a  little." 

"  Well,"  said  the  cat,  "  if  you  give  me  that  piece  I  will  weep 
with  one  eye." 

THE  KING  AND  HIS  SON 

He  had  a  son  whom  he  brought  up  well.  The  child  grew 
and  said  one  day  to  the  King,  "  I  am  going  out  for  a  walk." 

"  It  is  well,"  answered  the  King.  At  a  certain  place  he 
found  an  olive-tree  on  fire. 

"  O  God,"  he  cried,  "  help  me  to  put  out  this  fire !  " 

Suddenly  God  sent  the  rain,  the  fire  was  extinguished,  and 
the  young  man  was  able  to  pass.  He  came  to  the  city  and 
said  to  the  governor: 

"  Give  me  a  chance  to  speak  in  my  turn." 

"  It  is  well,"  said  he ;  "  speak." 

"  I  ask  the  hand  of  your  daughter,"  replied  the  young  man. 

"  I  give  her  to  you,"  answered  the  governor,  "  for  if  you  had 
not  put  out  that  fire  the  city  would  have  been  devoured  by 
the  flames." 

He  departed  with  his  wife.  After  a  long  march  the  wife 
made  to  God  this  prayer : 

"  O  God,  place  this  city  here." 

The  city  appeared  at  the  very  spot.  Toward  evening  the 
Marabout  of  the  city  of  which  the  father  of  the  young  bride- 
groom was  King  went  to  the  mosque  to  say  his  prayers. 

"  O  marvel !  "  he  cried,  "  what  do  I  see  down  there  ?  " 

The  King  called  his  wife  and  sent  her  to  see  what  was  this 


THE  KING  AND   HIS  SON  277 

new  city.  The  woman  departed,  and,  addressing  the  wife  of 
the  young  prince,  asked  alms  of  him.  He  gave  her  alms. 
The  messenger  returned  and  said  to  the  King: 

"  It  is  your  son  who  commands  in  that  city." 

The  King,  pricked  by  jealousy,  said  to  the  woman :  "  Go, 
tell  him  to  come  and  find  me.  I  must  speak  with  him." 

The  woman  went  away  and  returned  with  the  King's  son. 
His  father  said  to  him : 

"  If  you  are  the  son  of  the  King,  go  and  see  your  mother 
in  the  other  world." 

He  regained  his  palace  in  tears. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,"  asked  his  wife,  "  you  whom 
destiny  has  given  me  ?  " 

He  answered  her :  "  My  father  told  me,  '  Go  and  see  your 
mother  in  the  other  world.'  " 

"  Return  to  your  father,"  she  replied,  "  and  ask  him  for  the 
book  of  the  grandmother  of  your  grandmother." 

He  returned  to  his  father,  who  gave  him  the  book.  He 
brought  it  to  his  wife,  who  said  to  him,  "  Lay  it  on  the  grave 
of  your  mother."  He  placed  it  there  and  the  grave  opened. 
He  descended  and  found  a  man  who  was  licking  the  earth. 
He  saw  another  who  was  eating  mildew.  And  he  saw  a  third 
who  was  eating  meat. 

"  Why  do  you  eat  meat  ?  "  he  asked  him. 

"  Because  I  did  good  on  earth,"  responded  the  shade. 

"  Where  shall  I  find  my  mother  ?  "  asked  the  prince. 

The  shade  said,  "  She  is  down  there." 

He  went  to  his  mother,  who  asked  him  why  he  came  to 
seek  her. 

He  replied,  "  My  father  sent  me." 

"  Return,"  said  the  mother,  "  and  say  to  your  father  to  lift 
up  the  beam  which  is  on  the  hearth."  The  prince  went  to 
his  father.  "  My  mother  bids  you  take  up  the  beam 
which  is  above  the  hearth."  The  King  raised  it  and  found  a 
treasure. 

"  If  you  are  the  son  of  the  King,"  he  added,  "  bring  me 
someone  a  foot  high  whose  beard  measures  two  feet."  The 
prince  began  to  weep. 

"  Why  do  you  weep,"  asked  his  wife,  "  you  whom  destiny 
has  given  me  ?  " 


2?8  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

The  prince  answered  her,  "  My  father  said  to  me,  '  Bring 
me  someone  a  foot  high  whose  beard  measures  two  feet.' " 

"  Return  to  your  father,"  she  replied,  "  and  ask  him  for  the 
book  of  the  grandfather  of  your  grandfather." 

His  father  gave  him  the  book  and  the  prince  brought  it  to 
his  wife. 

"  Take  it  to  him  again  and  let  him  put  it  in  the  assembly 
place,  and  call  a  public  meeting."  A  man  a  foot  high  ap- 
peared, took  up  the  book,  went  around  the  city,  and  ate  up 
all  the  inhabitants. 


MAHOMET-BEN-SOLTAN 

A  certain  sultan  had  a  son  who  rode  his  horse  through  the 
city  where  his  father  reigned,  and  killed  everyone  he  met. 
The  inhabitants  united  and  promised  a  flock  to  him  who 
should  make  him  leave  the  city.  An  old  woman  took  it  upon 
herself  to  realize  the  wishes  of  her  fellow-citizens.  She  pro- 
cured some  bladders  and  went  to  the  fountain  to  fill  them 
with  the  cup  of  an  acorn.  The  old  man  came  to  water  his 
horse  and  said  to  the  old  woman: 

"  Get  out  of  my  way." 

She  would  not  move.  The  young  man  rode  his  horse  over 
the  bladders  and  burst  them. 

"  If  you  had  married  Thithbirth,  a  cavalier,"  cried  the  old 
woman,  "  you  would  not  have  done  this  damage.  But  I  pre- 
dict that  you  will  never  marry  her,  for  already  seventy  cava- 
liers have  met  death  on  her  account." 

The  young  man,  pricked  to  the  quick,  regained  his  horse, 
took  provisions,  and  set  out  for  the  place  where  he  should 
find  the  young  girl.  On  the  way  he  met  a  man.  They  jour- 
neyed together.  Soon  they  perceived  an  ogress  with  a  dead 
man  at  her  side. 

"  Place  him  in  the  earth,"  said  the  ogress  to  them ;  "  it  is 
my  son ;  the  Sultan  hanged  him  and  cut  off  his  foot  with  a 
sword." 

They  took  one  of  the  rings  of  the  dead  man  and  went  on 
their  way.  Soon  they  entered  a  village  and  offered  the  ring 
to  the  governor,  who  asked  them  for  another  like  it.  They 
went  away  from  there,  returned  through  the  country  which 


MAHOMET-BEN-SOLTAN  279 

they  had  traversed,  and  met  a  pilgrim  who  had  made  the  tour 
of  the  world.  They  had  visited  every  place  except  the  sea. 
They  turned  toward  the  sea.  At  the  moment  of  embarking, 
a  whale  barred  their  passage.  They  retraced  their  steps,  and 
met  the  ogress,  took  a  second  ring  from  the  dead  man,  and 
departed.  At  a  place  they  found  sixty  corpses.  A  singing 
bird  was  guarding  them.  The  travellers  stopped  and  heard 
the  bird  say: 

"  He  who  shall  speak  here  shall  be  changed  into  a  rock  and 
shall  die.  Mahomet-ben-Soltan,  you  shall  never  wed  the 
young  girl.  Ninety-nine  cavaliers  have  already  met  death 
on  her  account." 

Mahomet  stayed  till  morning  without  saying  one  word. 
Then  he  departed  with  his  companion  for  the  city  where 
Thithbirth  dwelt.  When  they  arrived  they  were  pressed  with 
hunger.  Mahomet's  companion  said  to  him : 

"  Sing  that  which  you  heard  the  bird  sing."  He  began  to 
sing.  The  young  girl,  whom  they  meant  to  buy,  heard  him 
and  asked  him  from  whom  he  had  got  that  song. 

"  From  my  head,"  he  answered. 

Mahomet's  companion  said :  "  We  learned  it  in  the  fields 
from  a  singing  bird." 

"  Bring  me  that  bird,"  she  said,  "  or  I'll  have  your  head 
cut  off." 

Mahomet  took  a  lantern  and  a  cage  which  he  placed  upon 
the  branch  of  the  tree  where  the  bird  was  perching. 

"  Do  you  think  to  catch  me  ?  "  cried  the  bird.  The  next 
day  it  entered  the  cage  and  the  young  man  took  it  away. 
When  they  were  in  the  presence  of  the  young  girl  the  bird 
said  to  her : 

"  We  have  come  to  buy  you." 

The  father  of  the  young  girl  said  to  Mahomet :  "  If  you 
find  her  you  may  have  her.  But  if  not,  I  will  kill  you.  Ninety- 
nine  cavaliers  have  already  met  death  thus.  You  will  be  the 
hundredth." 

The  bird  flew  toward  the  woman. 

"Where  shall  I  find  you?"  it  asked  her. 

She  answered :  "  You  see  that  door  at  which  I  am  sitting ; 
it  is  the  usual  place  of  my  father.  I  shall  be  hidden  under- 
neath." 


28o  MOORISH    LITERATURE 

The  next  day  Mahomet  presented  himself  before  the  Sultan : 
"  Arise,"  he  said,  "  your  daughter  is  hidden  there." 

The  Sultan  imposed  this  new  condition :  "  My  daughter 
resembles  ninety-nine  others  of  her  age.  She  is  the  hun- 
dredth. If  you  recognize  her  in  the  group  I  will  give  her  to 
you.  But  if  not,  I  will  kill  you." 

The  young  girl  said  to  Mahomet,  "  I  will  ride  a  lame  horse." 
Mahomet  recognized  her,  and  the  Sultan  gave  her  to  him, 
with  a  serving-maid,  a  female  slave,  and  another  woman. 

Mahomet  and  his  companion  departed.  Arriving  at  a  cer- 
tain road  they  separated.  Mahomet  retained  for  himself  his 
wife  and  the  slave  woman,  and  gave  to  his  companion  the 
two  other  women.  He  gained  the  desert  and  left  for  a 
moment  his  wife  and  the  slave  woman.  In  his  absence  an 
ogre  took  away  his  wife.  He  ran  in  search  of  her  and  met 
some  shepherds. 

"  O  shepherds,"  he  said,  "  can  you  tell  me  where  the  ogre 
lives?" 

They  pointed  out  the  place.  Arriving,  he  saw  his  wife. 
Soon  the  ogre  appeared,  and  Mahomet  asked  where  he  should 
find  his  destiny. 

"  My  destiny  is  far  from  here,"  answered  the  ogre.  "  My 
destiny  is  in  an  egg,  the  egg  in  a  pigeon,  the  pigeon  in  a  camel, 
the  camel  in  the  sea." 

Mahomet  arose,  ran  to  dig  a  hole  at  the  shore  of  the  sea, 
stretched  a  mat  over  the  hole ;  a  camel  sprang  from  the  water 
and  fell  into  the  hole.  He  killed  it  and  took  out  an  egg, 
crushed  the  egg  in  his  hands,  and  the  ogre  died.  Mahomet 
took  his  wife  and  came  to  his  father's  city,  where  he  built  him- 
self a  palace.  The  father  promised  a  flock  to  him  who  should 
kill  his  son.  As  no  one  offered,  he  sent  an  army  of  soldiers 
to  besiege  him.  He  called  one  of  them  in  particular  and  said 
to  him : 

"  Kill  Mahomet  and  I  will  enrich  you." 

The  soldiers  managed  to  get  near  the  young  prince,  put 
out  his  eyes,  and  left  him  in  the  field.  An  eagle  passed  and 
said  to  Mahomet :  "  Don't  do  any  good  to  your  parents,  but 
since  your  father  has  made  you  blind  take  the  bark  of  this 
tree,  apply  it  to  your  eyes,  and  you  will  be  cured." 

The  young  man  was  healed. 


MAHOMET-BEN-SOLTAN  281 

A  short  time  after  his  father  said  to  him,  "  I  will  wed  your 
wife." 

"  You  cannot,"  he  answered.  The  Sultan  convoked  the 
Marabout,  who  refused  him  the  dispensation  he  demanded. 
Soon  Mahomet  killed  his  father  and  celebrated  his  wedding- 
feast  for  seven  days  and  seven  nights. 


THE  WORLD'S 
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JVSTIN  MCCARTHY 
RICHARD  HENRY5TODDARD 
ARTHVR  RICHMOND  MARSH,  AB. 
PAVLVAN  DYKE.D.D. 
ALBERT  ELLERY  BERGH 


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MELPOMENE:  MUSE  OF  TRAGEDY. 

Photogravure  from  the  original  painting  by  Paul  Baudry  in  the  foyer  of  the 
Grand  Opera-House  at  Paris. 


tJ/AWAt''J.A»'AUJ,A  WAIAIMTMItJI  MXIMUl-tMAUJfl  WA  I'M 


MALAYAN 
LITERATURE 


ROMANTIC   TALES,   EPIC   POETRY 

AND 
ROYAL   CHRONICLES 

TRANSLATED   INTO   ENGLISH   FOR  THE   FIRST  TIME 


WITH   A   SPECIAL   INTRODUCTION   BY 
CHAUNCEY   C.  STARKWEATHER,  A.B.,  LL.B 


COPYRIGHT,  1901, 
BY  THE  COLONIAL  PRESS. 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION 

EASILY  the  most  charming  poem  of  Malayan  Literature 
is  the  Epic  of  Bidasari.  It  has  all  the  absorbing 
fascination  of  a  fairy  tale.  We  are  led  into  the  dreamy 
atmosphere  of  haunted  palace  and  beauteous  plaisance:  we 
glide  in  the  picturesque  imaginings  of  the  oriental  poet  from 
the  charm  of  all  that  is  languorously  seductive  in  nature  into 
the  shadowy  realms  of  the  supernatural.  At  one  moment  the 
sturdy  bowman  or  lithe  and  agile  lancer  is  before  us  in  hurry- 
ing column,  and  at  another  we  are  told  of  mystic  sentinels  from 
another  world,  of  Djinns  and  demons  and  spirit-princes.  All 
seems  shadowy,  vague,  mysterious,  entrancing. 

In  this  tale  there  is  a  wealth  of  imagery,  a  luxury  of  pictur- 
esqueness,  together  with  that  straightforward  simplicity  so  al- 
luring in  the  story-teller.  Not  only  is  our  attention  so  capti- 
vated that  we  seem  under  a  spell,  but  our  sympathy  is  invoked 
and  retained.  We  actually  wince  before  the  cruel  blows  of 
the  wicked  queen.  And  the  hot  tears  of  Bidasari  move  us  to 
living  pity.  In  the  poetic  justice  that  punishes  the  queen  and 
rewards  the  heroine  we  take  a  childish  delight.  In  other  words, 
the  oriental  poet  is  simple,  sensuous,  passionate,  thus  achieving 
Milton's  ideal  of  poetic  excellence.  We  hope  that  no  philoso- 
pher, philologist,  or  ethnologist  will  persist  in  demonstrating 
the  sun-myth  or  any  other  allegory  from  this  beautiful  poem. 
It  is  a  story,  a  charming  tale,  to  while  away  an  idle  hour,  and 
nothing  more.  All  lovers  of  the  simple,  the  beautiful,  the  pict- 
uresque should  say  to  such  learned  peepers  and  botanizers, 
"  Hands  off !  "  Let  no  learned  theories  rule  here.  Leave  this 
beautiful  tale  for  artists  and  lovers  of  the  story  pure  and  simple. 
Seek  no  more  moral  here  than  you  would  in  a  rose  or  a  lily 
or  a  graceful  palm.  Light,  love,  color,  beauty,  sympathy,  en- 
gaging fascination — these  may  be  found  alike  by  philosopher 

18 


iv  SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION 

and  winsome  youth.  The  story  is  no  more  immoral  than  a 
drop  of  dew  or  a  lotus  bloom ;  and,  as  to  interest,  in  the  land  of 
the  improviser  and  the  story-teller  one  is  obliged  to  be  inter- 
esting. For  there  the  audience  is  either  spellbound,  or  quickly 
fades  away  and  leaves  the  poet  to  realize  that  he  must  attempt 
better  things. 

We  think  that  these  folk-stories  have,  indeed,  a  common 
origin,  but  that  it  is  in  the  human  heart.  We  do  not  look  for 
a  Sigurd  or  Siegfried  on  every  page.  Imagine  a  nation  spring- 
ing from  an  ignorant  couple  on  a  sea-girt  isle,  in  a  few 
generations  they  would  have  evolved  their  Sleeping  Beauty  and 
their  Prince  Charming,  their  enchanted  castles,  and  their 
Djinns  and  fairies.  These  are  as  indigenous  to  the  human 
heart  as  the  cradle-song  or  the  battle-cry.  We  do  not  find  our- 
selves siding  with  those  who  would  trace  everything  to  a  first 
exemplar.  Children  have  played,  and  men  have  loved,  and 
poets  have  sung  from  the  beginning,  and  we  need  not  run  to 
Asia  for  the  source  of  everything.  Universal  human  nature 
has  a  certain  spontaneity. 

The  translator  has  tried  to  reproduce  the  faithfulness  and,  in 
some  measure,  to  indicate  the  graceful  phrases  of  the  original 
poem.  The  author  of  Bidasari  is  unknown,  and  the  date  of 
the  poem  is  a  matter  of  the  utmost  uncertainty.  Some  have 
attributed  to  it  a  Javanese  origin,  but  upon  very  slight  evidence. 
The  best  authorities  place  its  scene  in  the  country  of  Palem- 
bang,  and  its  time  after  the  arrival  of  the  Europeans  in  the 
Indian  archipelago,  but  suggest  that  the  legend  must  be  much 
older  than  the  poem. 

The  "  Makota  Radja  Radja  "  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
books  of  oriental  literature.  According  to  M.  Aristide  Marre, 
who  translated  it  into  French,  its  date  is  1603.  Its  author  was 
Bokhari,  and  he  lived  at  Djohore.  It  contains  extracts  from 
more  than  fifty  Arab  and  Persian  authors.  It  treats  of  the 
duties  of  man  to  God,  to  himself  and  to  society,  and  of  the  obli- 
gations of  sovereigns,  subjects,  ministers,  and  officers.  Ex- 
amples are  taken  from  the  lives  of  kings  in  Asia.  The  author 
has  not  the  worst  opinion  of  his  work,  saying  distinctly  that 
it  is  a  complete  guide  to  happiness  in  this  world  and  the  next. 
He  is  particularly  copious  in  his  warnings  to  copyists  and  trans- 
lators, cautioning  them  against  the  slightest  negligence  or  in- 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION  v 

accuracy,  and  promising  them  for  faithfulness  a  passport  to  the 
glories  of  heaven.  This  shows  that  the  author  at  least  took 
the  work  seriously.  That  there  is  not  a  trace  of  humor  in  the 
book  would  doubtless  recommend  it  to  the  dignified  and  lethar- 
gic orientals  for  whom  it  was  written.  Bokhari  seemed  to 
consider  himself  prophet,  priest,  and  poet-laureate  in  one.  The 
work  has  a  high  position  in  the  Malayan  Peninsula,  where  it 
is  read  by  young  and  old.  The  "  Crown  of  Kings  "  is  written 
in  the  court  language  of  Djohore.  The  author  was  a  Moham- 
medan mendicant  monk.  He  called  the  book  the  Crown  of 
Kings  because  "  every  king  who  read  and  followed  its  precepts 
would  be  a  perfect  king,  and  thus  only  would  his  crown  sit 
well  on  his  head,  and  the  book  itself  will  be  for  him  a  true 
crown." 

La  Fontaine  and  Lamartine  loved  stories.  The  schoolmates 
of  the  latter  called  the  latter  "  story-lover."  They  would  have 
loved  the  story  of  the  Princess  Djouher  Manikam,  which  is 
written  in  a  simple  and  natural  style  and  is  celebrated  in  the 
East,  or,  as  the  Malays  say,  in  the  "  country  between  windward 
and  leeward." 

From  the  "  Sedjaret  Malayou,"  worthless  as  it  is  as  history, 
one  may  obtain  side  lights  upon  oriental  life.  Manners  are 
portrayed  in  vivid  colors,  so  that  one  may  come  to  have  a  very 
accurate  knowledge  of  them.  Customs  are  depicted  from 
which  one  may  learn  of  the  formality  and  regard  for  precedents 
which  is  a  perspicuous  trait  of  oriental  character.  The  rigid 
etiquette  of  court  and  home  may  be  remarked.  From  the 
view  of  morals  here  described,  one  may  appreciate  how  far  we 
have  progressed  in  ethical  culture  from  that  prevailing  in 
former  times  among  the  children  of  these  winterless  lands. 

The  readers  of  this  series  are  to  be  congratulated  in  that  they 
are  here  placed  in  possession  of  a  unique  and  invaluable  source 
of  information  concerning  the  life  and  literature  of  the  far-away 
people  of  the  Indian  archipelago.  To  these  pages  an  added 
interest  accrues  from  the  fact  that  the  Philippines  are  now  pro- 
tected by  our  flag. 

The  name  Malay  signifies  a  wanderer.  As  a  people  they  are 
passionate,  vain,  susceptible,  and  endowed  with  a  reckless 
bravery  and  contempt  of  death.  The  Malays  have  considerable 
originality  in  versification.  The  pantoum  is  particularly  theirs 


vi  SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION 

—  a  form  arising  from  their  habits  of  improvisation  and  compet- 
itive versifying.  They  have  also  the  epic  or  sjair,  generally  a 
pure  romance,  with  much  naive  simplicity  and  natural  feeling. 
And  finally,  they  have  the  popular  song,  enigma,  and  fable. 

And  so  we  leave  the  reader  to  his  pleasant  journey  to  the 
lands  of  Djinns  and  Mantris  and  spells  and  mystic  talismans. 
He  will  be  entertained  by  the  chrestomathy  of  Bokhari  ;  he  will 
be  entranced  by  the  story  of  the  winsome  and  dainty  Bidasari. 


J 


CONTENTS 

PACK 

BIDASARI  : 

Song  I 3 

Song  II 7 

Song  III 33 

Song  IV 55 

Song  V 68 

Song  VI 72 

SEDJARET  MALA  YOU 93 

THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM 125 

MAKOTA  RADJA-RADJA 1 59 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING   PAGE 

MELPOMENE  .......        Frontispiece 

Photogravure  from  the  original  painting  by  Paul  Baudry 

SPIRIT  OF  GRACE        .        .  .        .  .        .122 

Photo-engraving  from  the  original  statue  by  M.  Loison 


THE    EPIC    OF     BIDASARI 


[Metrical  Translation  by  Chauncey  C.  Starkweather,  A.B.,  LL.B.~\ 


BIDASARI 


SONG  I 

HEAR  now  the  song  I  sing  about  a  king 
Of  Kembajat.    A  fakir  has  completed 
The  story,  that  a  poem  he  may  make. 
There  was  a  king,  a  sultan,  and  he  was 
Handsome  and  wise  and  perfect  in  all  ways, 
Proud  scion  of  a  race  of  mighty  kings. 
He  filled  the  land  with  merchants  bringing  wealth 
And  travellers.    And  from  that  day's  report, 
He  was  a  prince  most  valorous  and  strong, 
Who  never  vexing  obstacles  had  met. 
But  ever  is  the  morrow  all  unknown. 
After  the  Sultan,  all  accomplished  man, 
Had  married  been  a  year,  or  little  more, 
He  saw  that  very  soon  he'd  have  an  heir. 
At  this  his  heart  rejoiced,  and  he  was  glad 
As  though  a  mine  of  diamonds  were  his. 
Some  days  the  joy  continued  without  clouds. 
But  soon  there  came  the  moment  when  the  prince 
Knew  sorrow's  blighting  force,  and  had  to  yield 
His  country's  capital.    A  savage  bird, 
Garouda  called,  a  very  frightful  bird, 
Soared  in  the  air,  and  ravaged  all  the  land. 
It  flew  with  wings  and  talons  wide  outstretched, 
With  cries  to  terrify  the  stoutest  heart. 
All  people,  great  and  small,  were  seized  with  dread. 
And  all  the  country  feared  and  was  oppressed, 
And  people  ran  now  this  way  and  now  that. 
The  folk  approached  the  King.    He  heard  the  noise 
As  of  a  fray,  and,  angry,  asked  the  guard, 
"  Whence  comes  this  noise  ?  "    As  soon  as  this  he  said 

3 


MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

One  of  his  body-guard  replied  with  awe, 

"  Illustrious  lord,  most  merciful  of  kings, 

A  fell  garouda  follows  us  about." 

The  King's  face  paled  when  these  dread  words  he  heard. 

The  officers  arose  and  beat  their  breasts. 

The  sorrow  of  the  King  was  greater  still 

Because  the  Queen  was  ill.    He  took  her  hand 

And  started  without  food  or  anything. 

He  trusted  all  to  God,  who  watches  o'er 

The  safety  of  the  world.     The  sufTring  Queen 

Spoke  not  a  word  and  walked  along  in  tears. 

They  went  by  far  campongs  and  dreary  fields 

Beneath  a  burning  sun  which  overwhelmed 

Their  strength.    And  so  the  lovely  Queen's  fair  face 

From  palest  yellow  grew  quite  black.    The  prince 

Approached  the  desert  with  his  body  torn 

By  thorns  and  brambles.    All  his  care  and  grief 

Were  doubled  when  he  saw  his  lovely  wife 

Who  scarce  could  drag  herself  along  and  whom 

He  had  to  lead.    Most  desolate  was  he, 

Turning  his  mind  on  the  good  Queen's  sad  lot. 

Upon  the  way  he  gave  up  all  to  her. 

Two  months  they  journeyed  and  one  day  they  came 

Unto  a  campong  of  a  merchant,  where 

They  looked  for  rest  because  the  Queen  was  weak. 

The  path  was  rugged  and  the  way  was  hard. 

The  prince  made  halt  before  the  palisades, 

For  God  had  made  him  stop  and  rest  awhile. 

The  Sultan  said :   "  What  is  this  campong  here  ? 

I  fain  would  enter,  but  I  do  not  dare." 

The  good  Queen  wept  and  said :    "  O  my  beloved, 

What  shall  I  say  ?    I  am  so  tired  and  weak 

I  cannot  journey  more."    The  King  was  quite 

Beside  himself  and  fainted  where  he  sat. 

But  on  they  journeyed  to  the  riverside, 

Stopping  at  every  step. 

And  when  the  King 
Had  gained  the  bank  he  saw  a  little  boat 
With  roof  of  bent  bamboos  and  kadjang  screen. 
Then  to  the  Queen,  "  Rest  here,  my  precious  one." 


BIDASART 

The  silver  moon  was  at  the  full,  but  veiled 

With  clouds,  like  to  a  maid  who  hides  her  face 

And  glances  toward  her  lover  timidly. 

Then  there  was  born  a  daughter,  like  a  flower, 

More  beautiful  than  statue  of  pure  gold, 

Just  like  the  tulips  that  the  princess  plucked. 

The  mother's  heart  was  broken  at  the  thought 

That  she  must  leave  the  babe,  the  child  beloved 

They  both  adored,  such  beauty  it  presaged. 

The  King  with  tears  exclaimed,  "  How  can  we  take 

The  infant  with  us  o'er  this  stony  road 

Beset  with  thorns,  and  burned  with  dreadful  heat? 

Pearl  of  my  palace,  said  he  to  the  Queen, 

"  Weep  not  so  bitterly  about  the  child. 

An  offering  let  us  make  of  her  to  God. 

God  grant  she  may  be  found  by  loving  hearts 

Who'll  care  for  her  and  raise  her  in  their  home." 

As  soon  as  they  had  quite  determined  there 

To  leave  the  infant  princess,  their  great  grief 

No  limit  knew.    But  ere  they  went  away 

The  King  took  up  the  infant  in  his  arms 

And  rocked  her  on  his  knees  until  she  slept. 

"  Sleep  on,  heart's  love,  my  soul,  my  little  one, 

Weep  not  for  thy  dear  mother's  lot.    She  fain 

Would  take  thee  with  her,  but  the  way  is  hard. 

Sleep  on,  dear  child,  the  apple  of  my  eye, 

The  image  of  thy  sire.    Stay  here,  fea.  not. 

For  unto  God  we  trust  thee,  Lord  of  all. 

Sleep  on,  my  child,  chief  jewel  of  my  crown, 

And  let  thy  father  go.    To  look  at  thee 

Doth  pierce  my  heart  as  by  a  poniard's  blow. 

Ah,  sweet  my  child,  dear,  tender  little  one, 

Thy  father  loves  yet  leaves  thee.     Happy  be, 

And  may  no  harm  come  nigh  thee.    Fare  thee  well.' 

The  little  princess  slept,  lulled  by  his  voice. 

He  put  her  from  his  knees  and  placed  her  on 

A  finely  woven  cloth  of  Ind,  and  covered  her 

With  satin  webbed  with  gold.    With  flowing  tears 

The  mother  wrapped  her  in  a  tissue  fine 

Adorned  with  jewels  like  to  sculptured  flowers. 


MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

She  seized  the  child  and  weeping  murmured  low : 

"  O  dearest  child,  my  pretty  little  girl ! 

I  leave  thee  to  the  Master  of  the  world. 

Live  happily,  although  thy  mother  goes 

And  leaves  thee  here.    Ah,  sad  thy  mother's  lot ! 

Thy  father  forces  her  to  quit  thee  now. 

She  would  prefer  with  thee  to  stay,  but,  no! 

Thy  father  bids  her  go.    And  that  is  why 

Thy  mother's  fond  heart  breaks,  she  loves  thee  so, 

And  yet  must  leave  thee.    Oh,  how  can  I  live  ?  " 

The  mother  fainted,  and  the  grieving  King 

Was  fain  to  kill  himself,  so  was  he  moved. 

He  took  the  Queen's  head  on  his  knees.    And  soon 

By  God's  decree  and  ever-sheltering  grace 

She  to  her  senses  came  and  stood  erect. 

Again  she  wept  on  looking  at  the  child. 

"  If  I  should  never  see  thee  more,  sweet  soul, 

Oh,  may  thy  mother  share  thy  fate !    Her  life 

Is  bound  to  thine.    The  light  is  gone  from  out 

Thy  mother's  eyes.    Hope  dies  within  her  heart 

Because  she  fears  to  see  thee  nevermore. 

Oh,  may  some  charitable  heart,  my  child, 

Discover  thee ! "    The  prince  essayed  to  dry 

Her  tears.    "  Now  come  away,  my  dearest  love. 

Soon  day  will  dawn."    The  prince  in  grief  set  out, 

But  ever  turned  and  wanted  to  go  back. 

They  walked  along  together,  man  and  wife 

All  solitary,  with  no  friends  at  hand, 

Care-worn  and  troubled,  and  the  moon  shone  bright. 


SONG  II 

I  SING  in  this  song  of  a  merchant  great 
And  of  his  wealth.    His  goods  and  treasures  were 
Beyond  all  count,  his  happiness  without 
Alloy.    In  Indrapura  town  there  was 
No  equal  to  his  fortune.    He  possessed 
A  thousand  slaves,  both  old  and  young,  who  came 
From  Java  and  from  other  lands.    His  rank 
Was  higher  than  Panggawa's.    Wives  he  had 
In  goodly  numbers.    But  he  lacked  one  thing 
That  weighed  upon  his  heart — he  had  no  child. 
Now,  by  the  will  of  God,  the  merchant  great 
Came  very  early  from  the  palace  gates, 
And  sought  the  river-bank,  attended  by 
His  favorite  wife.    Lila  Djouhara  was 
The  merchant's  name.    He  heard  a  feeble  voice 
As  of  an  infant  crying,  like  the  shrill 
Tones  of  a  flute,  and  from  a  boat  it  seemed 
To  come.    Then  toward  the  wondrous  boat  he  went 
And  saw  an  infant  with  a  pretty  face. 
His  heart  was  overjoyed  as  if  he  had 
A  mine  of  diamonds  found.    The  spouses  said : 
"  Whose  child  is  this  ?    It  surely  must  belong 
To  one  of  highest  rank.    Some  cause  he  had 
To  leave  her  here."    The  merchant's  heart  was  glad 
To  see  the  bright  eyes  of  the  little  one. 
He  raised  her  in  his  arms  and  took  her  home. 
Four  waiting-maids  and  nurses  two  he  gave 
The  pretty  child.    The  palace  rooms  were  all 
Adorned  anew,  with  rugs  and  curtains  soft, 
And  tapestries  of  orange  hue  were  hung. 
The  princess  rested  on  a  couch  inlaid  with  gold, 
A  splendid  couch,  with  lanterns  softly  bright 
And  tapers  burning  with  a  gentle  ray. 

7 


MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

The  merchant  and  his  wife  with  all  their  hearts 

Adored  the  child,  as  if  it  were  their  own. 

She  looked  like  Mindoudari,  and  received 

The  name  of  Bidasari.    Then  they  took 

A  little  fish  and  changing  vital  spirits 

They  put  it  in  a  golden  box,  then  placed 

The  box  within  a  casket  rich  and  rare. 

The  merchant  made  a  garden,  with  all  sorts 

Of  vases  filled  with  flowers,  and  bowers  of  green 

And  trellised  vines.    A  little  pond  made  glad 

The  eyes,  with  the  precious  stones  and  topaz  set 

Alternately,  in  fashion  of  the  land 

Of  Pellanggam,  a  charm  for  all.    The  sand 

Was  purest  gold,  with  alabaster  fine 

All  mixed  with  red  pearls  and  with  sapphires  blue. 

And  in  the  water  deep  and  clear  they  kept 

The  casket.    Since  they  had  the  infant  found, 

Sweet  Bidasari,  all  the  house  was  filled 

With  joy.    The  merchant  and  his  wife  did  naught 

But  feast  and  clap  their  hands  and  dance.    They  watched 

The  infant  night  and  day.    They  gave  to  her 

Garments  of  gold,  with  necklaces  and  gems, 

With  rings  and  girdles,  and  quaint  boxes,  too, 

Of  perfume  rare,  and  crescent  pins  and  flowers 

Of  gold  to  nestle  in  the  hair,  and  shoes 

Embroidered  in  the  fashion  of  Sourat. 

By  day  and  night  the  merchant  guarded  her. 

So  while  sweet  Bidasari  grew,  her  lovely  face 

Increased  in  beauty.    Her  soft  skin  was  white 

And  yellow,  and  she  was  most  beautiful. 

Her  ear-rings  and  her  bracelets  made  her  look 

Like  some  rare  gem  imprisoned  in  a  glass. 

Her  beauty  had  no  equal,  and  her  face 

Was  like  a  nymph's  celestial.     She  had  gowns 

As  many  as  she  wished,  as  many  as 

A  princess  fair  of  Java.    There  was  not 

A  second  Bidasari  in  the  land. 

I'll  tell  about  Djouhan  Mengindra  now, 
Sultan  of  Indrapura.     Very  wide 


BIDASARI 

His  kingdom  was,  with  ministers  of  state 

And  officers,  and  regiments  of  picked 

Young  warriors,  the  bulwark  of  the  throne. 

This  most  illustrious  prince  had  only  been 

Two  years  the  husband  of  fair  Lila  Sari, 

A  princess  lovable  and  kind.    The  King 

Was  deemed  most  handsome.    And  there  was  within 

All  Indrapura  none  to  equal  him. 

His  education  was  what  it  should  be, 

His  conversation  very  affable. 

He  loved  the  princess  Lila  Sari  well. 

He  gave  her  everything,  and  she  in  turn 

Was  good  to  him,  but  yet  she  was  so  vain. 

"  There  is  no  one  so  beautiful  as  I," 

She  said.    They  were  united  like  unto 

The  soul  and  body.    And  the  good  King  thought 

There  could  not  be  another  like  his  wife. 

One  day  they  were  together,  and  the  Queen 

Began  to  sing :  "  Oh,  come,  my  well-beloved, 

And  listen  to  my  words.    Thou  tellst  me  oft 

Thou  lovest  me.    But  I  know  not  thy  heart. 

If  some  misfortune  were  to  overwhelm 

Wouldst  thou  be  true  to  me  ?  "    He  smiled  and  said : 

"  No  harm  can  touch  thee,  dear.     But  should  it  come, 

Whenever  thou  art  'whelmed  I'll  perish  too." 

With  joy  the  princess  said :  "  My  noble  prince, 

If  there  were  found  a  woman  whose  flower  face 

Were  fairer  than  all  others  in  the  world, 

Say,  wouldst  thou  wed  her  ?  "    And  the  King  replied : 

"  My  friend,  my  fairest,  who  is  like  to  thee  ? 

My  soul,  my  princess,  of  a  noble  race, 

Thou'rt  sweet  and  wise  and  good  and  beautiful. 

Thou'rt  welded  to  my  heart.    No  thought  of  mine 

Is  separate  from  thee." 

The  princess  smiled ; 

Her  face  was  all  transfigured  with  her  joy. 
But  suddenly  the  thought  came  to  her  mind, 
"  Who  knows  there  is  none  more  fair  than  I  ?  " 
And  then  she  cried :  "  Now  hear  me,  O  my  love ! 
Were  there  a  woman  with  an  angel-face, 


io  MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

Wouldst  thou  make  her  thy  wife  ?    If  she  appeared 
Unto  thine  eyes  more  beautiful  than  I, 
Then  would  thy  heart  not  burn  for  her?  " 

The  prince 

But  smiled,  and  answered  not.    She  also  smiled, 
But  said,  "  Since  thou  dost  hesitate,  I  know 
That  thou  wouldst  surely  wed  her."    Then  the  prince 
Made  answer :   "  O  my  heart,  gold  of  my  soul, 
If  she  in  form  and  birth  were  like  to  thee 
I'd  join  her  with  thy  destiny."    Now  when 
The  princess  heard  these  words  she  paled  and  shook. 
With  eyes  cast  down,  she  left  her  royal  spouse. 
But  quick  he  seized  her.    With  a  smile  he  said : 
"  Gold,  ruby,  dearest  friend,  I  pray  thee  now, 
Oh,  be  not  vexed  with  me.    Light  of  my  eyes, 
Keep  not  within  thy  heart  a  bitterness 
Because  I  answered  thus  unto  thy  words." 
He  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  lips 
And  wooed  her.    And  her  face  again  grew  sweet 
The  while  she  heard.    And  yet  her  woman's  heart 
Was  grieved  and  saddened.    And  she  sat  apart, 
And  swift  these  thoughts  came  to  her  anxious  mind : 
"  I'll  seek  to-morrow  through  this  kingdom  wide, 
Lest  there  should  be  within  the  land  a  maid 
More  fair  than  I.    To  death  I  shall  condemn 
Her  straight,  lest  rival  she  may  be  to  me. 
For  if  my  lord  should  marry  her,  he'd  love 
Her  more  than  me.     He'd  love  the  younger  one, 
And  constantly  my  tortured  heart  would  bleed." 
They  angered  her,  these  thoughts,  as  if  her  heart 
Were  filled  with  gall.     "  Now  may  I  be  accursed 
If  I  go  not  unto  the  end  in  love." 
Her  heart  was  not  assuaged ;  she  sighed  alone. 
Upon  the  morrow  morn  the  King  went  out, 
And  with  him  many  officers  and  men. 
Meanwhile  the  Princess  Lila  Sari  sent 
A  summons  to  a  jeweller  of  skill, 
And  at  the  same  time  called  her  four  dyangs, 
Who  came  and  sat.    Dang  Wilapat  bowed  low 
And  said,  "  Our  greetings  to  thee,  princess  great." 


BIDASARI  H 

The  Queen  replied :  "  Go  forth,  dyangs,  at  once 

And  find  me  gold  and  dust  of  gold,  and  take 

It  all  unto  a  goldsmith.    Let  him  make 

For  me  a  fan,  all  decked  with  beauteous  gems, 

With  rubies  red  and  pearls ;  and  after  that 

A  girdle  virginal.    Count  not  the  price. 

I  want  it  all  as  quickly  as  may  be." 

And  so  they  hastened,  took  the  gold,  and  went 

Outside  the  city,  through  the  whole  campong 

Of  goldsmiths,  seeking  there  the  best  to  make 

The  fan  and  girdle.    And  the  hammered  gold 

Soon  shone  with  many  amethysts  and  gems. 

It  was  a  marvel  to  behold  those  rare 

And  quaintly  fashioned  ornaments,  to  deck 

A  sultaness.    Of  priceless  worth  they  were. 

Four  days,  and  all  was  ready  for  the  Queen. 

But  she  had  never  eaten  all  this  time 

Because  of  grief.    She  thought  the  fan  more  fine 

Than  Java  princess  ever  yet  possessed. 

She  called  the  four  dyangs  and  said  to  them : 

"  A  secret  mission  have  I  now  for  ye. 

Go  up  and  down  among  the  officers 

And  show  this  fan  for  sale,  but  never  name 

The  price.     Seek  ever  if  there  be  a  face 

More  beautiful  than  mine ;  and  should  ye  find 

A  face  more  fair,  come  tell  it  straight  to  me. 

If  ye  obey  my  will  I'll  make  ye  all 

Inspectresses  within  the  royal  home." 

Then  forth  the  women  went  upon  the  quest. 

And  first  among  their  friends  they  went  with  words 

Of  mystery  and  hints  of  wondrous  things 

They  had  for  sale.    And  so  these  servants  bore 

The  story  to  their  masters,  "  The  dyangs 

Have  something  wonderful  to  sell."    And  soon 

The  daughters  of  the  houses  rich  began 

To  clamor  for  a  sight  of  this  great  prize. 

Then  the  dyangs  went  to  the  houses  all. 

The  young  girls  said,  "  Oh,  tell  us  now  the  price." 

Dyang  Wiravan  quickly  answered,  then 

Dyang  Podagah :   "  Tis  a  princely  thing ; 


12  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

I'll  go  and  ask  the  price  and  tell  it  thee." 

And  so  they  spoke,  and  so  they  looked  about 

To  find  a  face  more  beautiful  and  rare 

Than  their  own  Queen's,  and  wearied  in  the  search. 

"  Where  can  we  further  look  ?  "  they  said,  and  then 

Bethought  them  of  the  strangers  and  the  priests. 

But  in  that  quarter  no  one  dared  to  touch 

The  precious  things,  but  thought  it  passing  strange 

The  Queen  should  wish  to  sell.    To  the  campong 

Of  merchants  next  they  went.    A  double  line 

Of  ramparts  guarded  it.    "  Here  is  more  stir 

And  gayety,"  they  said,  "  with  sport  and  song, 

Than  elsewhere  have  we  found."    And  so  they  sought 

The  richest  merchants.    "  We  have  something  rare," 

They  said,  "  made  by  an  artist  Javanese." 

When  Bidasari's  servants  saw  these  folk 

They  said :  "  Bring  these  things  to  our  house  and  we 

Will  show  them  to  our  master.    He  will  buy." 

Then  the  dyangs  with  smiles  replied :   "  They  are 

Not  ours,  but  our  good  Queen's.    And  only  we 

May  show  them,  lest  a  stone  be  lost,  perchance, 

And  we  be  punished."    Bidasari's  maids 

Were  glad  and  said,  "  Wait  but  a  moment  here 

Until  we  find  what  Bidasari  wills." 

They  found  her  with  her  maids,  and  told  the  tale. 

Then  Bidasari  bade  them  bring  to  her 

The  stranger  folk,  and  said,  "  If  I  be  pleased 

I'll  buy."    Dang  Ratna  Watie  went  and  told 

The  women  that  young  Bidasari  wished 

To  see  their  wares.    The  four  dyangs  came  in 

Together.    Joy  their  faces  all  suffused, 

But  they  seemed  timid,  modest,  full  of  fear. 

Then  Bidasari's  women  said  to  them : 

"  Come,  O  young  women,  all  are  loyal  here. 

Enter,  our  sisters  and  our  friends." 

Now  when 

The  Queen's  dyangs  had  looked  about  them  there 
They  all  were  dazzled,  Bidasari's  face 
So  beautiful  appeared.    How  beat  their  hearts ! 
As  they  upon  her  lovely  features  gazed, 


BIDASARI 

Each  murmured  to  herself,  "  She  is  more  fair 
Than  our  great  Queen." 

Then  Bidasari  wished 
To  buy  the  fan,  and  sent  a  maid  to  ask 
Her  parents  for  the  gold.    The  merchant  said, 
"  Go  see  what  thing  it  is,  and  weigh  the  gold 
For  her."    The  mother  feared  a  trap  or  trick. 
"  Oh,  do  not  buy  the  fan,  my  child,"  she  said ; 
"  I'll  buy  a  finer  one  for  thee.    Send  this 
Away."    But  when  her  father  saw  her  tears 
Of  disappointment,  "  It  is  thine,"  he  said. 
"  What  is  the  price  ?     I'd  buy  it  though  it  cost 
Thy  weight  in  gold,  my  darling.    Tell  me  now, 
Dyangs."    Tjendra  Melinee  answered  him, 
"  Are  two  timbangs  too  much  ?  "    "  I'm  very  poor," 
He  said ;  "  but  I  will  buy  it  for  the  child." 
The  gold  was  weighed.    The  four  dyangs  straightway 
Departed,  hurried  to  the  Queen  and  said: 
"  At  last  we  have  discovered,  O  our  Queen, 
What  thou  hast  sought.     'Tis  in  a  near  campong 
Of  merchants  very  rich  and  great.    Oh,  there 
We  found  a  princess  fairer  than  the  day ; 
More  like  an  angel  than  a  mortal  maid. 
No  woman  in  this  land  compares  with  her. 
Her  name  is  Bidasari.    And  the  King 
Would  surely  marry  her  if  once  they  met, 
For  soon  she  will  be  ready  for  a  spouse ; 
Her  innocence  is  charming.    Like  a  cloud 
The  merchant  and  his  wife  keep  watchful  guard. 
Her  hair  is  curly,  like  a  flower  full  blown. 
Her  brow  is  like  the  moon  but  one  day  old. 
She's  like  a  ring  in  Peylou  made.    She  would 
Outshine  thy  beauty,  shouldst  thou  bring  her  here." 
The  princess  heard  and  quickly  said :    "  I  feel 
My  hatred  rise.    Oh,  may  I  never  see 
Her  face !    To  hear  ye  speak  of  her  inflames 
My  heart  with  anger.    Say,  why  do  ye  think 
That  she's  more  fair  than  I  ?  "    Then  made  reply 
The  women :  "  Bidasari's  eyes  are  soft. 
Her  smile  is  sweet,  her  skin  is  tinted  like 


14  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

The  green  tjempakka,  and  her  graceful  form 

Resembles  some  famed  statue  nobly  made. 

Her  cheeks  are  like  the  bill  of  flying  bird. 

We  loved  to  look  upon  her  neck.    Her  nose 

Is  like  a  jasmine  bud.    Her  pretty  face 

Is  like  the  yellow  of  an  egg.    Her  thoughts 

Are  pure  as  crystal.    And  she  wears  her  hair 

In  such  a  charming  way.     Her  lips  are  like 

A  little  polished  box.    The  flowers  she  wears 

But  make  her  look  the  prettier.    Her  teeth 

Are  like  a  bright  pomegranate.    Ah,  the  heart 

Doth  open  when  one  looketh  on  her  face. 

She's  like  a  princess  of  the  Mount  Lidang. 

Her  features  are  like  those  of  Nilagendi. 

Her  heels  are  like  the  eggs  of  hens,  and  make 

Her  seem  a  princess  of  Siam.     Her  fingers 

More  tapering  are  than  quills  of  porcupine. 

And  solid  is  the  nail  of  her  left  hand. 

No  noble's  girl  is  Bidasari's  peer." 

Now  when  the  princess  heard  them  sing  her  praise 

Her  soul  was  wounded  as  if  by  a  thorn. 

Her  dark  eyes  flashed.    "  Ah,  speak  no  more  of  her," 

She  said,  "  nor  speak  abroad  what  ye  have  seen. 

But  bring  me  Bidasari.    I  would  see 

If  what  ye  say  be  true." 

"  Then  we  must  take 

Her  presents  first,  and  strive  to  gain  by  them 
Her  friendship,  and  attain  our  end  at  last." 
They  went  to  see  her  every  day,  and  bore 
Rich  gifts. 

The  merchant  and  his  wife  remarked 
The  visits  of  the  Queen's  dyangs,  and  how 
They  loved  their  daughter.    That  is  why  they  gave 
Them  all  that  they  desired.    But  the  dyangs 
Among  themselves  kept  saying :   "  How  can  we 
Take  her  away  ?    We  love  her  so,  and  deep 
Within  our  hearts  we  pity  her.    And  now 
Her  parents  have  such  trust  in  us,  and  load 
Us  down  with  gifts.     But  when,  alas,  at  home 
The  princess  questions  us,  what  shall  we  say? 


BIDASARI  15 

For  she's  a  powerful  Queen.    Yet  if  we  make 
Unhappy  this  dear  girl  of  these  good  folk, 
Shall  we  not  sin  ?    And  still  the  princess  is 
So  violent  and  harsh !    Her  jealousy 
Would  know  no  limit  should  the  King  but  hear 
Of  this  affair." 

Dang  Djoudah  answering  spoke : 
"  We  all  can  go  to  her  and  quiet  her. 
A  word  suffices  oft.    She  is  our  Queen, 
But  to  the  King  belongeth  power  supreme. 
If  Bidasari  should  disdain  the  throne 
We  shall  renounce  our  functions  at  the  court, 
For  what  the  Queen  desires  is  most  unjust. 
And  if  we  prove  unfaithful  we  shall  be 
O'erwhelmed  with  maledictions."    Thus  they  spoke 
And  went  back  to  the  busy-lived  campong 
Of  merchants.    Here  they  thought  to  go  and  find 
Djouhara,  and  obtain  what  they  desired. 
A  messenger  went  after  them  and  said : 
"  To  Dang  Bidouri :  Come  at  once ;  my  friend 
The  princess  summons  you."    Then  the  dyangs 
Went  to  the  Queen  and  found  her  with  the  King 
At  dinner.     With  malicious  wink  of  eye 
She  made  them  understand  they  must  not  talk 
Before  the  prince.     When  he  had  dined  he  took 
Some  siri  from  the  betel-box,  himself 
Anointed  with  a  perfume  sweet,  and  went 
To  teach  the  young  folk  how  to  ride  and  shoot 
The  arrow  straight,  and  played  at  many  games. 
Meanwhile  the  princess  Lila  Sari  called 
Before  her  the  dyangs  and  questioned  them : 
"  Why  have  ye  come  so  late  ?  "    Bidouri  bowed 
And  said :    "  'Twas  very  hard  to  bring  her  here 
To  thee.    The  merchant  and  his  wife  do  not 
A  moment  leave  her,  for  they  love  her  so. 
Her  tiring-women  ever  are  about. 
Thou  shouldst  demand  her  of  her  parents,  if 
Thou  dost  desire  to  see  her.    Treat  her  like 
Thy  child,  for  she  is  still  so  very  young ! 
From  Bidasari's  father  thou  wilt  gain 


1 6  MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

All  that  thou  canst  desire,  he  is  so  rich, 

If  thou  wilt  only  love  his  daughter  dear. 

And  dost  thou  give  command  to  bring  her  here  ? 

Let  us  go  all  alone  and  summon  her 

For  Bidasari'll  freely  follow  us." 

They  tried  to  calm  the  anger  of  the  Queen. 

She  bowed  her  head  in  silence,  but  her  soul 

Was  very  heavy,  and  hypocrisy 

With  hate  and  envy  vied  within  her  heart. 

"  They  love  the  child,  these  dyangs,"  to  herself 

She  said,  "  and  I  shall  have  no  easy  task. 

I  shall  attract  her  here  by  trickery, 

But  she  shall  never  my  companion  be. 

With  Bidasari  once  within  my  power 

My  heart  will  be  no  longer  on  the  rack. 

Go  now,  dyangs,"  she  said,  "  and  seek  for  me 

The  merchant  and  his  wife  and  hither  bring 

Young  Bidasari,  whom  I'll  elevate 

Unto  the  rank  of  princess,  for  I  have 

No  child.     Mazendra  take  with  ye.    And  when 

Young  Bidasari  shall  arrive,  conceal 

Her  for  a  day  or  two.     And  gently  speak 

Unto  the  merchant  and  his  wife,  and  say 

Concessions  will  be  granted  to  the  priests 

And  strangers  in  their  quarter,  should  she  come. 

Console  Lila  Djouhara  thus,  and  pledge 

That  he  may  come  to  see  his  child  whene'er 

His  heart  impelleth  him."    An  escort  went 

With  them,  and  the  dyangs  bowed  low  before 

The  merchant  and  his  wife,  and  greeted,  too, 

Fair  Bidasari.     But  the  merchant  said: 

"  Why  come  ye  here  in  so  great  numbers  ?  "     Then 

They  straight  replied :    "  Our  most  beloved  Queen 

Hath  sent  us  here  with  greetings  unto  thee, 

The  master  of  the  house.     If  thou'lt  permit, 

We've  come  to  seek  fair  Bidasari  here." 

They  beat  their  breasts,  the  merchant  and  his  wife. 

"  Our  darling,  only  child !     It  will  be  hard 

For  her  to  be  the  servant  of  a  prince ; 

For  she  hath  had  her  way  so  long!     Her  traits 


BIDASARI  17 

Are  not  yet  formed.     Go  back,  dyangs,  and  pray 

The  Queen  to  pardon  us.    Say  how  we  grieve." 

But  the  dyangs  repeated  all  the  words 

Said  by  the  Queen,  and  so  their  fears  were  calmed. 

They  hoped  Queen  Lila  Sari  would  love  well 

Fair  Bidasari.     Then  the  merchant  said: 

"  I  will  obey,  and  let  my  darling  go, 

So  that  she  may  become  unto  the  Queen 

A  servant,  and  perchance  a  daughter  loved. 

Now  shall  she  go  with  ye.     Only  I  beg 

The  Queen  to  let  her  come  back  home  to  us 

At  three  days'  end.     She  is  not  used  to  stay 

With  strangers.     Never  hath  she  left  us  for 

A  single  day."    Then  Dang  Bidouri  said: 

"  We'll  do  our  best  before  the  Queen ;  and  why 

Should  she  not  grant  to  Bidasari  this  ?  " 

They  bathed  fair  Bidasari  with  sweet  scents, 

And  then  arranged  her  in  rich  raiment  new. 

A  fine  sijrash  she  wore  with  broidered  flowers 

Of  Pekan,  and  a  satin  robe  all  fringed 

With  gold.     She  bore  a  plaque  of  beaten  gold 

Bound  to  a  necklace,  chiselled,  gem-bedecked ; 

Her  over-tunic  was  of  yellow  silk 

With  tiny  serpents  on  the  buttons  'graved. 

Three  bracelets  wore  the  maid,  and  rarest  rings, 

And  ear-rings  like  a  wheel  in  motion  wrought. 

Chaste  links  of  gold  set  forth  her  beauty  rare, 

A  fair  flow'r  in  a  vase,  whose  perfume  sweet 

Wafts  scented  breaths  as  far  as  one  may  see. 

They  kissed  her  then  with  tears  and  held  her  close 

Upon  their  breasts.    "  Be  humble  to  the  Queen," 

They  said,  "  remember  that  thou  art  before 

The  King,  and  near  the  throne.    Ask  leave  to  come 

To  see  us  when  thou  dost  desire.    Speak  sweetly 

With  low  and  gentle  voice." 

Thus  they  enjoined. 

And  then  the  merchant  said,  "  Dyangs,  if  ye 
Love  Bidasari,  see  ye  vex  her  not." 
They  dried  their  tears  and  said :   "  Be  without  fear. 
Intrust  thy  daughter  to  our  mistress  dear." 


i8  MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

"  My  child,"  he  said,  "  I'll  come  to  see  thee  oft. 

Thou  wilt  be  better  there,  my  love,  than  here." 

But  Bidasari  wept  and  cried :   "  Oh,  come, 

Dear  mother,  with  me !     Wilt  thou  not,  alas  ?  " 

But  the  fond  parents  were  astounded  then 

To  learn  the  mother  was  not  asked  to  come. 

She  stayed  with  tears,  the  while  the  father  went. 

As  far  as  to  the  city's  gates.    With  tears 

He  said :  "  Farewell,  O  apple  of  my  eye 

I  leave  thee  here.     Fear  not,  my  dearest  child." 

Then  Bidasari  wept.     Her  heart  was  wrung. 

She  went.    The  merchant  followed  with  his  eyes. 

She  entered  by  a  hidden  door.    Dyangs 

And  mandars  flocked  to  see  her,  but  she  hung 

Her  head  and  kept  her  eyes  downcast. 

The  sun 

Announced  the  evening,  and  the  King  was  still 
Surrounded  by  his  officers.     'Twas  then 
Fair  Bidasari  to  the  palace  came, 
And  stood  before  the  Queen.    All  the  dyangs 
Sat  on  the  floor,  with  servants  of  the  house. 
Like  the  pengawas  Bidasari  bowed, 
'Mid  the  dyangs,  in  presence  of  the  Queen. 
They  gave  her  all  the  merchant's  gifts,  as  sign 
Of  homage.     All  astonished  was  the  Queen 
At  Bidasari's  beauty.    She  appeared 
Almost  divine.     Bidouri  spoke  and  said, 
"  Thou  seest  Bidasari,  O  our  Queen, 
Lila  Djouhari's  daughter."    At  these  words 
The  Queen  was  stupefied,  and  thought :   "  In  truth 
'Tis  as  they  said.    She  is  more  lovely  than 
The  fairest  work  of  art."    Bidouri  told 
All  that  the  merchant  and  his  wife  had  said. 
The  Queen  inclined  her  head  and  silence  kept, 
But  wicked  thoughts  were  surging  in  her  brain. 
A  combat  raged  within  her  heart.    She  feared 
The  King  might  see  the  maiden.     "  Send  away," 
She  said,  "  the  nurses  and  the  women  all." 
Fair  Bidasari  wept  when  they  retired. 
The  princess  called  her  to  her  side  and  said : 


BIDASARI  19 

"  Thou  must  not  weep  so,  Bidasari.    They 

Will  all  return.    When  thou  dost  wish  to  go, 

They  will  go  with  thee.    Now  depart,  dyangs. 

Ye  need  not  care  for  Bidasari  more. 

I  will  procure  her  dames  of  company 

And  servants.    You  may  come  from  time  to  time." 

So  they  arose,  and,  with  prostrations,  went. 

The  Queen  conducted  Bidasari  then 

Into  a  room  and  left  her  all  alone, 

And  all  afraid. 

When  evening  shadows  fell, 
The  great  King  bade  the  Queen  to  sup  with  him. 
He  sat  beside  her,  smiled  and  gayly  talked, 
As  he  had  been  young  Bedouwandas,  on 
His  horse,  with  sword  at  belt.    "  My  royal  spouse, 
How  thou  dost  love  me!  for  thou  wouldst  not  sup 
Without  me,  though  thou  needest  food  and  drink." 
Now  when  the  King  had  eaten,  he  retired 
Unto  his  sleeping-chamber. 

Still  alone 

And  weeping  much,  fair  Bidasari  stayed, 
In  darkness  with  no  one  to  speak  to  her. 
She  thought  on  her  dear  parents.    "  O  my  God ! 
Why  dost  Thou  leave  me  here  ?  "  The  solitude 
Filled  her  with  terror,  and  she  wept  until 
The  middle  of  the  night,  and  thought  of  home. 
Out  spake  the  King :    "  Now  what  is  that  I  hear  ? 
What  voice  is  that  so  sorrowful  and  sweet  ?  " 
"  It  is  an  infant  crying,"  said  the  Queen. 
"  In  all  the  darkness  it  has  lost  its  way." 
Her  heart  was  burning,  and  she  sent  a  word 
To  Bidasari  that  she  must  not  weep, 
And  held  her  peace  and  waited  till  the  dawn. 
But  Bidasari  wept  the  whole  night  long 
And  cried  for  home.    When  the  dyangs  all  ran 
To  comfort  her,  they  found  the  door  was  locked, 
And  none  could  enter.    Bidasari  thought, 
"  What  wrong  have  I  committed,  that  the  Queen 
Should  be  so  vexed  with  me?"    When  day  appeared, 
To  the  pavilion  went  the  King.    The  Queen 


20  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

Threw  wide  the  door  of  Bidasari's  room 
And  entered  all  alone. 

Then  Bidasari 

The  Queen's  hand  kissed,  and  begged  that  she  would  let 
Her  homeward  fare.     "  O  gracious  Queen,"  she  said, 
"  Take  pity  on  me ;  let  me  go  away. 
I'll  come  to  thee  again." 

The  wicked  Queen 

Struck  her,  and  said,  "  Thou  ne'er  shalt  see  again 
Thy  home."    The  gentle  Bidasari  drooped 
Her  head  and  wept  afresh,  shaking  with  fear. 
"  Forgive  the  evil  I  have  done,  my  Queen, 
For  I  am  but  a  child,  and  do  not  know 
How  I  have  sinned  against  thee,"  falling  at 
Her  feet  she  said.    The  Queen  in  anger  struck 
Her  once  again.    "  I  know  full  well,"  she  said, 
"All  thy  designs  and  projects.     What!     Am  I 
To  rest  in  peace  and  see  thy  beauty  grow, 
And  thee  become  my  rival  with  the  King?  " 
Then  Bidasari  knew  'twas  jealousy 
That  caused  the  fury  of  the  Queen.    Her  fear 
Increased,  she  trembled  and  bewailed  her  fate. 
The  livelong  day  she  was  insulted,  struck, 
And  of  her  food  deprived. 

Before  the  King 

Returned,  the  Queen  departed  from  the  room 
Of  Bidasari.    The  poor  child  had  lost 
Her  former  color.     Black  her  face  had  grown 
From  blows,  as  if  she  had  been  burnt.    Her  eyes 
She  could  not  open.    Such  her  sufferings  were 
She  could  not  walk.    Then  unto  God  she  cried: 
"  O  Lord,  creator  of  the  land  and  sea, 
I  do  not  know  my  fault,  and  yet  the  Queen 
Treats  me  as  guilty  of  a  heinous  crime. 
I  suffer  hell  on  earth.    Why  must  I  live? 
Oh,  let  me  die  now,  in  the  faith,  dear  Lord. 
My  soul  is  troubled  and  my  face  is  black 
With  sorrow.    Let  me  die  before  the  dawn. 
My  parents  do  not  help  me.    They  have  left 
Me  here  alone  to  suffer.    In  the  false 


BIDASARI  ai 

Dyangs  I  trusted,  as  to  sisters  dear. 

Their  lips  are  smiling,  but  their  hearts  are  base. 

Their  mouths  are  sweet  as  honey,  but  their  hearts 

Are  full  of  evil.    Oh,  what  can  I  say  ? 

It  is  the  will  of  God." 

Such  was  the  grief 
Of  Bidasari,  and  her  tears  fell  fast. 
Now  when  the  King  went  forth  again,  the  Queen 
Began  anew  her  persecutions  harsh. 
With  many  blows  and  angry  words,  she  said : 
"  Why  dost  thou  groan  so  loudly  ?    Dost  thou  seek 
By  crying  to  attract  the  King,  to  see 
Thy  beauty  ?      'Tis  thy  hope,  I  know  full  well, 
His  younger  wife  to  be.    And  thou  art  proud 
Of  all  thy  beauty."    Bidasari  was 
Astounded,  and  replied  with  many  tears: 
"  May  I  accursed  be  if  ever  I 
Such  plottings  knew.    Thou  art  a  mighty  Queen. 
If  I  have  sinned  against  thee,  let  me  die 
At  once.    For  life  is  useless  to  the  hearts 
That  suffer.    Hast  thou  brought  me  here  to  beat? 
How  thou  hast  made  me  weep !    O  Queen,  art  thou 
Without  compassion  ?  " 

All  possessed  with  rage 
The  Queen  replied :    "  I  do  not  pity  thee. 
I  hate  thee,  when  I  see  thee.    Open  not 
Thy  mouth  again."    The  wicked  Queen  then  seized 
The  lovely  tresses  of  the  beauteous  maid, 
And  took  a  piece  of  wood  with  which  to  strike ; 
But  Bidasari  wept  and  swooned  away. 
The  King's  voice  sounded  through  the  corridor, 
As  he  returned.     The  Queen  then  hastened  forth 
And  left  a  tnandar  there  to  close  and  guard 
Fair  Bidasari's  room,  that  nothing  should 
Be  seen.    Then  asked  the  King  of  her,  "  Whom  hast 
Thou  beaten  now  ?  "     The  hypocrite  replied, 
"  It  was  a  child  that  disobeyed  my  will." 
"  Are  there  not  others  for  that  discipline  ? 
Is  it  for  thee  to  strike  ?  "    His  siri  then 
He  took,  and  kissed  the  Queen  with  fondest  love. 


22  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

All  the  dyangs  fair  Bidasari's  plight 
Observed,  and  kindly  pity  filled  their  breasts. 
"  How  cruel  is  the  conduct  of  the  Queen !  " 
They  said.    "  She  made  us  bring  her  to  her  side 
But  to  maltreat  the  child  the  livelong  day. 
It  seems  as  if  she  wished  to  slay  her  quite." 
Then  secretly  they  went,  with  some  to  watch, 
And  sprinkled  Bidasari's  brow.    To  life 
She  came,  and  opened  those  dear  wistful  eyes. 
"  My  friends,"  she  said,  "  I  pray  ye,  let  me  go 
Back  home  again  unto  my  father's  house." 
"  Oh,  trust  in  God,  my  child,"  said  one  in  tears. 
"  My  lot  is  written  from  eternity. 
Oh,  pray  the  princess  great  to  take  my  life," 
The  poor  child  cried ;  "  I  can  no  longer  stand ; 
My  bones  are  feeble.    Oh,  she  has  no  heart ! " 
But  the  dyangs,  for  fear  the  Queen  might  see, 
All  fled.  " 

Meanwhile  the  merchant  and  his  wife 
Wept  all  the  day,  and  sighed  for  their  dear  child, 
Sweet  Bidasari.     Nor  did  gentle  sleep 
Caress  their  eyes  at  night.    Each  day  they  sent 
Rich  presents  of  all  kinds,  and  half  of  them 
Were  for  the  child.  But  naught  the  wicked  Queen 
To  Bidasari  gave.    So  five  days  passed 
And  then  Dyang  Menzara  forth  they  sent. 
The  merchant  said :    "  Oh,  tell  the  mighty  Queen 
That  I  must  Bidasari  see.    I'll  bring 
Her  back  in  three  days'  time."    The  good 
Dyang  went  to  the  queen  and  bowing  low : 
"  The  merchant  fain  would  see  his  child,"  she  said. 
At  this  the  features  of  the  Queen  grew  hard. 
"  Did  they  not  give  their  child  to  me  ?    Now  scarce 
A  day  has  passed,  and  they  must  see  her  face. 
Is  it  thine  own  wish  or  the  merchant's  ?    I 
Have  said  the  girl  could  go  where'er  she  would. 
Can  I  not  have  her  taken  back  myself  ?  " 
Then  the  dyang  bowed,  beat  her  breast,  and  went, 
Sad  that  she  could  not  Bidasari  see, 
And  quaking  at  the  anger  of  the  Queen. 


BIDASARI 

Of  the  dyang,  fair  Bidasari  heard 

The  voice,  and  felt  her  heart  break  that  she  could 

Not  speak  to  her  and  send  a  message  home. 

Upon  the  morrow,  when  the  King  had  gone 

Among  his  ministers  and  men  of  state, 

The  Queen  again  to  Bidasari's  room 

Repaired,  to  beat  her  more.    As  soon  as  she 

Beheld  the  Queen,  poor  Bidasari  prayed 

To  her,  "  O  sovereign  lady  great,  permit 

Tnat  I  may  go  unto  my  father's  house." 

The  princess  shook  with  rage,  her  face  on  fire. 

"If  thou  but  sayest  a  word,  I'll  slay  thee  here." 

To  whom  could  Bidasari  turn?    She  bent 

Before  the  will  of  God,  and  in  a  sweet 

Voice  said :    "  O  Lord,  my  God,  have  pity  now 

Upon  me,  for  the  cruel  world  has  none. 

Grant  now  the  Queen's  desire  and  let  me  die, 

For  she  reproacheth  me,  though  naught  I've  done. 

My  parents  have  forgotten  me,  nor  send 

A  word."    The  angry  princess  struck  again 

Her  piteous  face,  and  as  she  swooned  away 

A  napkin  took  to  twist  into  a  cord 

And  strangle  her.    She  summoned  to  her  aid 

Dang  Ratna  Wali.    "  Help  me  pluck  this  weed ; 

I  wish  to  kill  her."    But  the  woman  fled, 

As  base  as  cruel.    Bidasari's  ghost 

Arose  before  her.    Yet  the  child  came  back 

To  consciousness,  and  thought  amid  her  tears : 

"I'll  tell  the  story  of  the  golden  fish 

Unto  the  Queen,  that  she  may  know  it  all ; 

For  I  can  but  a  little  while  endure 

These  pains."    She  spoke  then  to  the  Queen  and  said 

"  O  Queen,  thou  dost  desire  that  I  shall  die. 

Seek  out  a  little  casket  that  doth  lie 

All  hidden  in  the  fish-pond  at  our  house. 

Within  it  is  a  fish.     Have  it  brought  here 

And  I  will  tell  thee  what  it  signifies." 

The  princess  called  Dyang  Sendari :     "  Go 

And  bring  here  the  dyangs,  with  no  delay, 


j4  MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

From  out  the  merchant's  house."    When  they  arrived : 

"  Go,  now,  dyangs,  for  Bidasari  saith 

There  is  a  little  casket  in  the  pond 

Where  she  is  wont  to  bathe.     Go  bring  it  me, 

In  silence,  letting  no  one  see  ye  come." 

Then  the  dyangs  replied :    "  Oh,  hear  our  prayer. 

For  Bidasari.    How  her  parents  grieve ! 

Oh,  pardon,  princess,  let  her  go  with  us." 

The  Queen  with  smiles  responded :    "  The  young  girl 

Is  very  happy  here,  and  full  of  joy. 

Her  parents  must  not  grieve,  for  in  two  days 

If  Bidasari  doth  desire  to  go 

I'll  send  her  freely.    She  is  vexed  that  ye 

Come  here  so  often."    The  dyangs  bowed  low, 

And  smiled,  and  called  enticingly :    "  Come  forth, 

O  charming  child,  pure  soul;  it  is  not  right 

To  treat  us  so,  for  we  have  come  to  see 

Thy  lovely  face,  and  in  its  beauty  bask." 

Sweet  Bidasari  heard,  and  could  not  speak, 

But  answered  with  her  tears.    The  cruel  Queen 

Said  to  them :    "  Speak  no  more.    But  if  ye  bring 

The  little  casket,  ye  will  fill  the  heart 

Of  Bidasari  with  great  joy."    Forth  fared 

Then  the  dyangs,  and  found  the  casket  small, 

And  brought  it  to  the  palace  of  the  Queen. 

Again  to  Bidasari  called  the  good 

Dyangs:    "  Oh,  come,  dear  heart,  and  take  it  from 

Our  hands  yourself."    "  She  sleeps,"  the  princess  said. 

"  Come  back  to-morrow."    So  they  bowed  and  went. 

The  princess  hastened  with  the  casket  rich 

To  Bidasari's  room,  and  opened  it 

Before  her  eyes.    Within  it  was  a  box 

Of  agate,  beautiful  to  see,  and  filled 

With  water  wherein  swam  a  little  fish 

Of  form  most  ravishing.    The  princess  stood 

Amazed  to  see  with  eyes  of  fire  a  fish 

That  swam.    Then  was  she  glad,  and  spoke  with  joy 

To  Bidasari :    "  Say  what  signifies 

The  fish  to  thee?    What  shall  I  do  with  it?  " 

Then  Bidasari  bowed  and  said :    "  My  soul 


BIDASARI  25 

Is  in  that  fish.    At  dawn  must  thou  remove 
It  from  the  water,  and  at  night  replace. 
"  Leave  it  not  here  and  there,  but  hang  it  from 
Thy  neck.    If  this  thou  dost,  I  soon  shall  die. 
My  words  are  true.    Neglect  no  single  day 
To  do  as  I  have  said,  and  in  three  days 
Thou'lt  see  me  dead." 

The  Queen  felt  in  her  heart 
A  joy  unspeakable.    She  took  the  fish 
And  wore  it  on  a  ribbon  round  her  neck. 
Unto  the  Queen  then  Bidasari  spoke, 
"  Oh,  give  my  body  to  my  parents  dear 
When  I  am  dead."    Again  the  young  maid  swooned. 
The  Queen  believed  her  dead,  and  ceased  to  beat 
Her  more.    But  she  yet  lived,  though  seeming  dead. 
The  joyful  Queen  a  white  cloth  over  her 
Then  spread,  and  called  aloud  to  the  dyangs, 
"  Take  Bidasari  to  her  father's  house." 
They  groaned  and  trembled  when  they  saw  that  she 
Was  dead,  and  said  with  many  tears :    "  Alas ! 
O  dearest  one,  O  gold  all  virginal ! 
What  shall  we  say  when  we  thy  parents  see  ? 
They'll  beat  their  breasts  and  die  of  grief.    They  gave 
Thee  to  the  King  because  they  trusted  us." 
But  the  proud  Queen,  her  face  all  red  with  hate: 
"Why  stay  ye?    Take  the  wretched  girl  away." 
They  saw  the  Queen's  great  rage,  and  bore  the  maid 
Upon  their  shoulders  forth,  and  carried  her 
Unto  her  father's  house  at  dead  of  night. 
Fear  seized  the  merchant.    "  Say  what  bring  ye  here? 
Tell  me,  dyangs."     They  placed  her  on  the  ground. 
The  merchant  and  his  wife,  beside  themselves, 
With  tears  embraced  her  form.    "  I  trusted  in 
The  Queen,  and  so  I  sent  my  child  to  her. 
O  daughter  dear,  so  young,  so  pure,  so  sweet, 
What  hast  thou  done  that  could  the  Queen  displease, 
That  she  should  send  thee  home  like  this  to  me? 
How  could  the  Queen  treat  Bidasari  so? 
For  seven  days  she  imprisoned  her  and  sent 
Her  home  in  death.    Ah,  noble  child !  alas ! 


36  MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

Thy  father's  heart  will  break,  no  more  to  hear 
Thy  voice.    Speak  to  thy  father,  O  my  child, 
My  pearl,  my  gem  of  women,  purest  gold, 
Branch  of  my  heart;  canst  thou  not  quiet  me? 
O  Bidasari,  why  art  thou  so  still  ? 
Arise,  my  pretty  child,  arise  and  play 
With  all  thy  maids.    Here  is  thy  mother,  come 
To  greet  thee.    Bid  her  welcome.    Why  art  thou 
So  motionless?     Hast  thou  no  pity,  dear, 
To  see  thy  father  overwhelmed  with  woe  ? 
My  heart  is  bursting  with  despair  because 
Thou'rt  lost  to  me." 

Long  time  the  merchant  thus 
Lamented.    "  What  have  I  to  live  for  now  ? 
Since  thou  art  dead,  thy  father  too  shall  die. 
It  is  his  lot  both  night  and  day  to  sigh 
For  thee.    My  God,  I  cannot  understand 
Why  this  dear  child  should  thus  a  victim  be ! 
'Tis  the  dyangs  who  have  this  evil  wrought." 
Then,  through  the  whole  campong,  the  merchants  all 
Made  lamentations,  rolling  on  the  ground, 
With  noise  of  thunder,  and  their  hearts  on  fire. 
They  sought  to  speak  and  could  not.    Then  began 
Again  the  merchant,  and  unto  his  friends 
Told  his  misfortune,  asking  back  his  child. 

The  Queen's  dyangs  shed  tears,  and  gently  said : 

"  Speak  not  so  loudly.    Thou  dost  know  that  we 

Are  but  poor  servants,  and  we  tremble  lest 

The  Queen  should  hear.    If  any  one  of  us 

Had  done  this  wrong,  we'd  tell  it  to  the  King. 

Fate  only  is  at  fault.    Oh,  be  not  wroth 

With  us.    Our  will  was  good.    We  had  no  end 

Except  to  see  thy  lovely  daughter  great 

And  powerful.     Naught  the  King  hath  known  of  this. 

It  was  the  Queen's  mad  jealousy  and  hate." 

The  merchant  and  his  wife  accepted  these, 
The  dyangs'  words.    "  It  is  as  they  declare. 


BIDASARI  27 

The  Queen  was  jealous  and  embittered  thus 

Against  our  Bidasari.    To  your  home 

Return,  dyangs.    I  fear  me  that  the  Queen 

May  learn  of  your  delay  and  punish  ye." 

They  bowed  and  went,  with  hearts  of  burning  grief. 


The  merchant  and  his  wife  then  lifted  up 

Poor  Bidasari.    They  were  all  but  dead 

With  sorrow.    On  his  knees  the  father  took 

The  body  wrapped  in  crimson  silk.    He  felt 

A  warmth.    Then  he  remembered  that  within 

The  water  was  her  vital  spirit  still, 

And,  placing  her  upon  a  mat,  sent  Dang 

Poulam,  the  casket  from  the  pond  to  bring. 

But  'twas  not  there.    Then  all  the  household  searched, 

But  found  it  not.    The  merchant  beat  his  breast. 

"  Branch  of  my  heart,"  he  said,  "  we  all  had  thought 

Thou  wouldst  become  a  princess.    I  have  lost 

My  reason.     I  hoped  now  to  summon  back 

Thy  spirit  vital,  but  the  casket's  lost. 

My  hope  is  gone.    It  may  be  the  dyangs 

Have  stolen  it.    They're  faithful  to  the  Queen. 

We  may  not  trust  in  them.    They're  filled  with  hate 

And  trickery."    Unconscious  all  the  time 

Lay  Bidasari ;  but  at  midnight's  hour 

She  for  the  first  time  moved.    They  torches  brought 

And  there  behind  Egyptian  curtains,  right 

And  left,  ignited  them,  with  many  lamps' 

Soft  flames.    The  servants  watched  and  waited  there. 

The  father,  always  at  his  daughter's  side, 

With  fixed  glance  looked  for  life  to  come  once  more 

Back  to  his  darling  one.    She  moved  again. 

With  opening  eyes  she  saw  and  recognized 

Her  own  soft  couch,  her  parents,  and  her  maids. 

She  tried  but  could  not  speak.    Her  hot  tears  fell, 

She  slowly  turned  and  looked  with  fondest  love 

Upon  her  parents. 

When  the  merchant  saw 
That  Bidasari's  spirit  had  returned, 


MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

He  took  her  on  his  knees  and  gave  her  rice. 

She  could  not  walk  because  such  pain  she  felt. 

She  thought  upon  the  Queen  and  wept  afresh. 

They  dried  her  tears,  and  placed  within  her  mouth 

What  food  she  liked.    The  merchant  tenderly 

Said,  "  Bidasari,  dear,  what  has  thou  wrought 

To  cause  the  Queen  against  thee  thus  to  act  ?  " 

Young  Bidasari,  with  a  flood  of  tears,  replied : 

"  No  wrong  at  all  I  wrought  the  cruel  Queen. 

All  suddenly  her  insults  she  began, 

And  beatings."    They  were  stupefied  to  hear 

Such  tales.    "  Light  of  my  eyes,"  the  father  said, 

"  We  do  not  doubt  thine  innocence.     Her  deeds 

Were  those  of  madness.    For  her  haughty  birth 

I  care  no  whit.    Wisdom  and  virtue  bind 

True  hearts  alone.    As  friends  we  ne'er  must  name 

Those  false  dyangs.     Not  plants  medicinal, 

But  poison  foul,  are  they.    These  days  are  bad. 

Injustice  reigns.    Believe  me,  friends,  it  is 

A  sign  the  last  great  day  shall  soon  appear. 

Those  false  dyangs  are  but  a  race  of  slaves, 

Insensible  to  all  that's  good.    The  hour 

The  princess  knoweth  Bidasari  lives, 

We  all  shall  die,  the  princess  is  so  wroth. 

Illustrious  Queen  they  call  her — but  her  words 

Are  hard  and  cruel.    May  the  curse  of  God 

O'erwhelm  her  and  annihilate!     From  thee, 

O  God,  she  shall  receive  the  punishment 

Deserved.    She  who  pursueth  thus  a  soul 

Shall  know  remorse  and  pain.    So  God  hath  willed. 

So  God  hath  willed.    Who  doth  another  harm 

Shall  suffer  in  his  turn.    It  shall  be  done 

To  him  as  he  hath  done  to  others.     So, 

My  child,  my  crown,  have  no  more  fear  at  all. 

Intrust  thyself  to  God.    The  cruel  Queen 

Shall  yet  be  treated  as  she  treated  thee." 

The  merchant  thus  lamented  till  the  night 

Was  half  departed,  shedding  sapphire  tears. 

The  innocent  young  girl,  like  marble  there, 


BIDASARI  29 

Slept  till  the  evening  twilight  came.    Toward  dawn 
She  swooned  anew. 

The  merchant  and  his  wife 
Were  much  disturbed  to  see  at  night  she  came 
To  life,  but  when  the  daylight  shone  again 
They  lost  her,  and  her  spirit  fled  away. 
This  so  distressed  the  merchant's  heart,  a  lone 
Retreat  he  sought  to  find.    The  parents  cried : 
"  O  dearest  child,  there's  treason  in  the  air. 
Hatred  and  anger  the  companions  are 
Of  lamentations  and  of  curses  dire. 
Foul  lies  for  gold  are  uttered.    Men  disdain 
The  promises  of  God,  the  faith  they  owe. 
Oh,  pardon,  God !    I  ne'er  thought  the  dyangs 
Would  thus  conspire.    But  since  they  are  so  bad 
And  treated  Bidasari  thus,  we'll  go 
And  in  the  desert  find  a  resting-place. 
And  may  it  be  a  refuge  for  us  all, 
Hidden  and  unapproachable. 

His  goods 

He  gathered  then,  and  all  his  servants  paid, 
And  built  a  home  far  in  the  desert  land, 
A  spot  agreeable.    A  cabin  there 
He  raised,  with  ramparts  hemmed  about,  and  strong 
Sasaks,  and  seven  rows  of  palisades. 
They  placed  there  many  vases  full  of  flowers, 
And  every  sort  of  tree  for  fruit  and  shade, 
And  cool  pavilions.     This  plaisance  so  fair 
They  called  Pengtipourlara.     It  was  like 
The  garden  of  Batara  Indra.     All 
About,  the  merchant  set  pomegranate-trees 
And  vines  of  grape.     No  other  garden  was 
So  beautiful.     'Twas  like  the  garden  fair 
Of  great  Batara  Brahma,  filled  with  fruits. 
When  all  was  ready,  forth  they  went,  toward  night, 
And  took  young  Bidasari,  and  much  food. 
They  fared  two  days  and  came  unto  the  spot, 
A  garden  in  the  desert.     Softest  rugs 
From  China  there  were  spread  and  of  bright  hue 


>  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

The  decorations  were,  in  every  tint. 

The  house  was  hung  with  tapestries,  and  ceiled 

To  represent  the  heavens  flecked  with  clouds. 

And  all  about  were  lanterns  hung  and  lamps. 

Soft  curtains  and  a  couch  completed  this 

Enchanted  resting-place.     Always  the  light 

Was  uniform,  and  brilliant  as  the  day. 

'Twas  like  a  palace  of  a  mighty  king, 

Magnificent  and  grand  beyond  compare. 

There  was  a  table  on  a  damp  rug  set, 

With  drinks  for  Bidasari,  and  with  bowls 

Of  gold,  and  vases  of  souasa,  filled 

With  water.     All  of  this  beside  the  couch 

Was  placed,  with  yellow  siri,  and  with  pure 

Pinang,  all  odorous,  to  please  the  child. 

And  all  was  covered  with  a  silken  web. 

Young  Bidasari  bracelets  wore,  and  rings, 

And  ear-rings  diamond  studded.     Garments  four 

All  gem-bedecked  upon  a  cushion  lay, 

For  Bidasari's  wear.     When  night  had  come 

Young  Bidasari  waked.     Her  parents  dear 

Then  bathed  her,  and  her  tender  body  rubbed 

With  musk  and  aloes.    Then  she  straight  was  clad 

In  garments  of  her  choosing.     Her  dear  face 

Was  beautiful,  almost  divine.     She  had 

Regained  the  loveliness  she  erst  possessed. 

The  merchant  was  astonished,  seeing  her. 

He  told  her  then  that  they  would  leave  her  there, 

"  Branch  of  my  heart  and  apple  of  my  eye, 

My  dearest  child,  be  not  disturbed  at  this. 

I  do  not  mean  to  work  thee  any  harm, 

Nor  to  disown  thee,  but  to  rescue  thee 

From  death."     But  as  she  listened  to  these  words 

Young  Bidasari  wept.     She  thought  upon 

Her  fate.     Into  her  father's  arms  she  threw 

Herself,  and  cried :     "  Why  wilt  thou  leave  me  here, 

0  father  dearest,  in  this  desert  lone? 
I'll  have  no  one  to  call  in  case  of  need. 

1  fear  to  stay  alone.     No  one  there'll  be 
To  talk  to  me.     I  only  count  those  hours 


BIDASARI 

As  happy  when  I  have  my  parents  near." 

The  merchant  heard  fair  Bidasari's  words 

And  wept  with  his  dear  wife.     With  bitter  grief 

Their  hearts  were  shattered.     Counsels  wise  they  gave 

To  Bidasari.     "  Dearest  daughter  mine," 

The  father  said,  "  gem  of  my  head,  my  crown, 

Branch  of  my  heart,  light  of  my  eyes,  oh,  hear 

Thy  father's  words,  and  be  thou  not  afraid. 

We  brought  thee  hither,  to  this  fair  retreat, 

Far  from  the  town,  for,  if  the  Queen  should  know 

Thou  liv'st  at  night,  the  false  dyangs  would  come, 

And  who  against  the  princess  can  contend? 

They'd  take  thee  back,  and  thus  exonerate 

Themselves.     I'd  let  myself  be  chopped  in  bits 

Before  thou  shouldst  unto  the  Queen  return. 

Thy  father  cannot  leave  companions  here, 

But  after  three  days  he  will  come  to  thee. 

Thy  parents  both  will  soon  come  back  again." 

Then  Bidasari  thought :     "  My  parent's  words 

Are  truth,  and  if  the  Queen  should  find  I  live 

She  would  abuse  me  as  before.     Give  me 

One  maid-companion  here  to  be  with  me," 

She  asked.     "  My  child,  trust  not,"  he  said,  "  in  slaves, 

Nor  servants,  for  they  only  follow  pay." 

Then  Bidasari  silence  kept,  and  they, 

The  father  all  distraught  and  mother  fond, 

Wept  bitterly  at  thought  of  leaving  her. 

Fair  Bidasari  bade  them  eat,  before 

They  started.     But  because  of  heavy  hearts 

They  but  a  morsel  tasted.    At  the  dawn 

Young  Bidasari  swooned  again.    They  made 

All  ready  to  return  to  town.     With  tears 

The  father  said :     "  O  apple  of  my  eye, 

Pearl  of  all  women,  branch  of  my  own  heart, 

Pure  gold,  thy  parents  leave  thee  with  distress. 

No  more  they'll  have  a  daughter  in  the  house. 

But,  dear,  take  courage,  we  shall  soon  come  back." 

They  left  here  with  a  talking  bird  to  cheer 

Her  loneliness,  close  shutting  all  the  gates 

Of  all  the  seven  ramparts.     Through  a  wood 


32  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

Bushy  and  thick  they  took  a  narrow  path, 

In  sorrow,  but  with  confidence  in  God. 

"  O  sovereign  God,  protect  our  child,"  they  said. 

When  they  had  fared  unto  their  house,  they  prayed 

And  gave  much  alms. 

•    When  evening  shadows  came 
Young  Bidasari  waked,  and  found  herself 
Alone,  and  was  afraid.    With  bitter  tears 
Her  eyes  were  filled.     What  could  she  say?    She  gave 
Herself  to  God.    Alas,  our  destiny 
Is  like  a  rock.     'Twas  hers  to  be  alone. 
It  is  in  no  man's  power  to  turn  aside 
Or  change  whatever  is  by  fate  decreed. 
All  desolate  sat  Bidasari.     Sleej) 
Wooed  not  her  eyes.     Now  when  he  heard  the  cry 
Of  "  Peladou,"  the  owl  lamented  loud. 
Upon  her  parents  coming,  loaded  down 
With  dainties  for  the  child,  she  for  a  while 
Her  woe  forgot,  and  ate  and  drank  with  joy. 
The  little  bird  with  which  she  talked  upheld 
Her  courage  with  its  soothing  voice.     So  ran 
The  days  away.     Upon  pretext  he  gave 
Of  hunting  deer,  the  merchant  daily  came. 


SONG  III 

HEAR  now  a  song  about  the  King  Djouhan. 
The  wise  and  powerful  prince  e'er  followed  free 
His  fancy,  and  the  Princess  Lila  Sari 
Was  very  happy  in  her  vanity. 

Since  she  had  killed  (for  so  she  thought)  the  maid, 
Young  Bidasari,  tainted  was  her  joy. 
"  The  King  will  never  take  a  second  wife," 
She  mused,  "  since  Bidasari  is  now  dead." 
The  King  loved  Princess  Lila  Sari  well. 
He  gratified  her  every  wish,  and  gave 
Her  all  she  asked,  so  fond  was  he  of  her. 
Whene'er  the  princess  was  annoyed,  the  King, 
With  kisses  and  soft  words  would  quiet  her, 
And  sing  to  her  sweet  songs  till  she  became 
Herself  again.     "  Poor,  little,  pretty  wife," 
He'd  say,  and  laugh  her  fretful  mood  away. 
One  night  as  he  lay  sleeping  on  his  bed, 
A  dream  tormented  him.     "What  may  it  mean?" 
He  thought.     "  Ah,  well,  to-morrow  morn  I'll  seek 
An  explanation."    At  the  dawn  he  sat 
Upon  a  rug  Egyptian,  breaking  fast, 
And  with  him  was  the  princess.     When  she  had 
The  dainties  tasted,  the  dyangs  arrived 
With  leaves  of  perfume.     Then  the  King  went  forth 
Into  the  garden.    All  the  officers 
Were  there  assembled.     When  they  saw  the  King 
They  all  were  silent.     To  a  mantri  spoke 
The  King:     "  My  uncle,  come  and  sit  thee  here. 
I  fain  would  question  thee."     The  King  had  scarce 
These  words  pronounced,  when,  bowing  very  low, 
The  mantri  in  respectful  tones  replied, 
"  My  greetings  to  thee,  O  most  merciful 
Of  kings."     He  sat  him  near  the  throne.     "  I  dreamed 
3  33 


34  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

Last  night,"  the  King  continued,  "  that  the  moon 

In  her  full  glory  fell  to  earth.     What  means 

This  vision  ?  "    Then  the  mantri  with  a  smile 

Replied :   "  It  means  that  thou  shalt  find  a  mate, 

A  dear  companion,  like  in  birth  to  thee, 

Wise  and  accomplished,  well  brought  up  and  good, 

The  one  most  lovable  in  all  the  land." 

The  King's  eyes  took  new  fire  at  this.     He  said 

With  smiles :  "  I  gave  the  Queen  my  promise  true 

That  never  I  would  take  a  second  wife 

Until  a  fairer  I  could  find  than  she. 

And  still  she  is  so  lovely  in  my  eyes, 

Her  equal  cannot  anywhere  be  found. 

You'd  take  her  for  a  flow'r.     Yet  when  arise 

Her  storms  of  anger,  long  it  takes  to  calm 

Her  mind,  so  waspish  is  her  character. 

The  thought  of  this  doth  sadden  me.     Should  one 

Not  satisfy  her  heart's  desire,  she  flies 

Into  a  passion  and  attempts  to  kill 

Herself.     But  'tis  my  destiny — 'tis  writ. 

The  Queen  is  like  a  gem  with  glint  as  bright 

As  lightning's  flash.     No  one  can  ever  be, 

I  tell  thee  now,  so  beautiful  to  me." 

The  mantri  smiled.     "  What  thou  dost  say  is  just, 

0  King,  but  still  if  thou  shouldst  someone  find 
More  beautiful,  thou  yet  couldst  keep  thy  word. 
The  beauty  of  the  Queen  may  fade  away. 

The  princess  thou  shalt  wed,  O  King,  hath  four 
High  qualities.     She  must,  to  be  thy  queen, 
Be  nobly  born,  and  rich,  and  fair,  and  good." 
The  prince  replied :     "  O  uncle  mine,  thy  words 
Are  true.     Full  many  princesses  there  live, 
But  hard  it  is  to  find  these  qualities. 
The  Queen  is  good  and  wise  and  lovable. 

1  do  not  wish  another  wife  to  wed, 

And  wound  the  Queen  with  whom  three  years  I've  lived 
In  love  and  harmony.     Yet  if  I  saw 
A  quite  celestial  maid,  perhaps  I  might 
Forget,  and  marry  her,  and  give  the  Queen 
A  gay  companion."    "O  accomplished  prince, 


BIDASARI 

Thou  sayest  truly.     Stay  long  years  with  her 

Thy  Queen,  thy  first  beloved,  for  she  hath  all — 

Great  beauty  and  intelligence."    They  bowed 

As  forth  from  them  the  King  went  palaceward. 

He  sat  beside  the  Queen,  and  kissed  her  cheeks, 

And  said :   "  Thy  features  shine  with  loveliness, 

Like  to  a  jewel  in  a  glass.     When  I 

Must  leave  thy  side,  I  have  no  other  wish 

But  to  return.     Like  Mount  Maha  Mirou 

Thou  art."    The  princess  said :     "  Wherefore  art  thou 

So  spirited  to-day?    Thou'rt  like  a  boy." 

"  Branch  of  my  heart,  my  dearest  love,"  he  said, 

"  Vex  not  thyself.    Thou  know'st  the  adage  old  : 

First  one  is  taken  with  a  pretty  face, 

Then  wisdom  comes  and  prudence,  and,  with  these, 

One  loves  his  wife  until  the  day  of  death. 

If  thus  thou  dost  deport  thyself,  my  dear, 

My  heart  between  two  wives  shall  never  be 

Divided ;  thou  alone  shalt  own  it  all." 

The  Queen  was  charmed  to  hear  his  loving  words. 

At  night  the  Queen  slept,  but  King  remained 

Awake,  and  watched  the  moon,  and  called  to  mind 

His  dream.     As  dawn  approached  he  slept,  and  seemed 

To  hear  an  owl's  shrill  voice,  like  Pedalou's. 

When  it  was  fully  day,  the  royal  pair 

Together  broke  their  fast.    The  King  went  forth 

And  orders  gave,  in  two  days  to  prepare 

A  mighty  hunt,  to  chase  the  dappled  deer, 

With  men  and  dogs  and  all  apparel  fit. 

Then  back  into  the  palace  went  the  King, 

And  told  the  Queen,  who  straightway  gave  commands 

For  food  to  be  made  ready.    At  midnight 

Behind  Egyptian  curtains  went  to  rest 

The  King  and  Queen,  but  slept  not.     Still  the  dream 

Was  ever  in  his  thoughts  and  worried  him. 

At  dawn  he  said  farewell  unto  the  Queen. 

She  was  all  radiant,  and  smiling,  said : 

"  Bring  me  a  fawn.     I'll  tell  the  servants  all 

To  take  good  care  of  it,  so  it  may  grow 

Quite  tame."    "  What  we  can  do,  my  dear,  we  shall, 


35 


36  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

So  all  of  thy  desires  may  come  to  pass." 

And  so  the  King  took  leave,  with  kisses  fond, 

And,  mounted  on  a  hunter  brown,  set  forth, 

With  velvet  saddle  decked  with  fringe  of  pearls. 

Lances  and  shields  and  arrows  and  blow-guns 

They  bore.    The  wood  they  entered,  and  the  beasts 

All  fled  before  their  steps  at  dawn's  first  ray. 

And  when  the  sun  was  up,  they  loosed  the  hounds 

With  savage  cries.     Toward  noon  an  animal 

In  flight  they  saw,  and  would  have  followed  it, 

But  then  up  spake  the  King  and  said,  "  We  are 

So  hot  and  weary,  let  us  linger  here 

For  rest."     One-half  the  company  astray 

Had  gone,  each  striving  to  be  first  of  all. 

The  King,  attended  by  a  faithful  three, 

Reclined  upon  the  ground,  and  sent  them  forth 

For  water.     So  the  mantris  went  to  find 

A  river  or  a  pond,  and  faring  far 

To  Bidasari's  plaisance  came  at  last. 

They  stopped  astounded,  then  approached  the  place. 

When  they  were  near  the  lovely  garden  close, 

They  said :     "  There  was  no  garden  here  before. 

To  whom  does  this  belong  ?    Perchance  it  is 

A  spirit's  bower.     No  human  voice  is  heard 

But  just  the  cry  of '  minahs  '  and  '  bajans.' 

Whom  shall  we  call,  lest  spectres  should  appear  ?  " 

They  wandered  round  the  ramparts,  and  a  gate 

Discovered,  shut  with  heavy  iron  bar, 

And  vainly  tried  to  open  it.    Then  one 

Of  them  went  back,  and  found  the  King,  and  said : 

"  Hail,  sovereign  lord,  we  have  no  water  found, 

But  a  campong  here  in  the  desert  lone, 

As  splendid  as  a  sultan's,  with  all  sorts 

Of  trees  and  flow'rs,  and  not  a  mortal  there. 

'Tis  girt  about  with  double  ramparts  strong. 

No  name  is  seen,  and  all  the  gates  are  shut, 

So  that  we  could  not  enter." 

Scarce  the  King 

Had  heard  the  mantri's  word  when  off  he  rushed 
To  see  the  fair  domain.     Before  the  gate 


BIDASARI  37 

He  stood  astonished.     "  Truly,  mantris  mine, 

It  is  as  you  have  said.     I  once  was  here 

And  then  the  wood  was  filled  with  thorns  and  briers." 

Tis  not  a  nobleman's  campong.     It  must 

Have  recently  been  made.     Now  summon  all 

The  mantris  here  and  see  what  they  will  say." 

They  called  aloud,  "  Oh,  hasten,  friends,  and  bring 

The  water  here."     Seven  times  they  called,  but  none 

Responded.     Said  the  King,  "  It  is  enough. 

'Tis  like  as  if  one  called  unto  the  dead." 

"  We'd  best  not  enter,"  said  the  mantris  then, 

"  It  may  be  the  abode  of  demons  fell. 

We  are  afraid.     Why  should  we  linger  here? 

Return,  O  King,  for  should  the  spirits  come 

It  might  to  us  bring  evil.     Thou  shouldst  not 

Expose  thyself  to  danger."     But  the  King 

Upon  the  mantris  smiled.     "  Ye  are  afraid 

Of  demons,  spectres,  spirits?    I've  no  fear. 

Break  down  the  barriers.     I'll  go  alone 

Within  the  precincts."    When  the  gates  were  forced, 

He  entered  all  alone.     The  mantris  all 

Were  terrified  lest  harm  should  come  to  him. 

They  sought  with  him  to  go.     He  lightly  said : 

"  No,  mantris  mine,  whatever  God  hath  willed, 

Must  happen.     If  in  flames  I  were  to  burn, 

In  God  I  still  should  trust.     'Tis  only  He 

That  evil  can  avert.     We  mortal  men 

No  power  possess.     With  my  own  eyes  I  wish 

To  see  this  apparition.     Should  it  be 

The  will  of  God,  I'll  come  forth  safe  and  sound. 

Be  not  disturbed.     In  case  of  urgent  need 

I'll  call  upon  ye.     All  await  me  here." 

The  mantris  made  obeisance  and  replied, 

"  Go,  then,  alone,  since  thou  hast  willed  it  so." 

Into  the  plaisance  strode  the  King.     He  saw 

That  all  was  like  a  temple  richly  decked, 

With  rugs  of  silk  and  colored  tapestries 

Of  pictured  clouds  and  wheels  all  radiant, 

And  lamps  and  candelabra  hung  about, 

And  lanterns  bright.     'Twas  like  a  palace  rich. 


38  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

The  eyes  were  dazzled  with  magnificence. 

And  seats  there  were,  and  dainty  tables  rare. 

As  through  the  palace  went  the  King,  the  more 

Astonished  he  became  at  all  he  saw, 

But  nowhere  found  a  trace  of  human  soul. 

Then  spake  the  little  bird :    "  Illustrious  King, 

What  seek'st  thou  here?    This  mansion  is  the  house 

Of  ghosts  and  demons  who  will  injure  thee." 

The  King  was  filled  with  wonder  thus  to  hear 

A  bird  address  him.     But  it  flew  away, 

And  hid  behind  a  couch.     "  The  bird  I'll  find," 

He  said,  and  ope'd  the  curtains  soft.     He  saw 

Full  stretched,  upon  a  bed  in  dragon's  shape, 

A  human  form,  in  heavy-lidded  sleep 

That  seemed  like  death,  and  covered  with  a  cloth 

Of  blue,  whose  face  betokened  deepest  grief. 

"  Is  it  a  child  celestial  ?  "  thought  the  King, 

"  Or  doth  she  feign  to  sleep  ?     Awake,  my  sweet, 

And  let  us  be  good  friends  and  lovers  true." 

So  spake  the  King,  but  still  no  motion  saw. 

He  sat  upon  the  couch,  and  to  himself 

He  said :     "  If  it  a  phantom  be,  why  are 

The  eyes  so  firmly  shut?     Perhaps  she's  dead." 

She  truly  is  of  origin  divine, 

Though  born  a  princess."    Then  he  lifted  high 

The  covering  delicate  that  hid  the  form 

Of  Bidasari  sweet,  and  stood  amazed 

At  all  the  magic  beauty  of  her  face. 

Beside  himself,  he  cried,  "  Awake,  my  love." 

He  lifted  her  and  said,  with  kisses  warm, 

"  Oh,  have  no  fear  of  me,  dear  heart.     Thy  voice 

Oh,  let  me  hear,  my  gold,  my  ruby  pure, 

My  jewel  virginal.     Thy  soul  is  mine. 

Again  he  pressed  her  in  his  arms,  and  gave 

Her  many  kisses,  chanting  love-songs  low. 

"  Thou  dost  not  wake,  O  dearest  one,  but  thou 

Art  yet  alive,  because  I  see  thee  breathe. 

Sleep  not  too  long,  my  love.    Awake  to  me, 

For  thou  hast  conquered  with  thy  loveliness 

My  heart  and  soul."     So  fell  the  King  in  love 


BIDASARI  39 

With  Bidasari.     "Ah,  my  sweet,"  he  said, 

"  In  all  the  world  of  love  thou'rt  worthiest." 

The  mantris  grew  uneasy  at  his  stay. 

They  rose  and  said :     "  What  doth  the  King  so  long  ? 

If  harm  befell  him,  what  would  be  our  fate  ? 

Oh,  let  us  call  him  back  at  once,  my  lords." 

So  one  approached  the  palace,  and  cried  out: 

"  Return,  O  prince  accomplished,  to  us  now. 

Already  night  is  near.     Back  thou  may'st  come 

To-morrow  ere  the  dawn.     We  are  afraid 

Lest  spirits  harm  thee.     Come,  O  King,  for  we 

A-hungered  are,  and  wait  for  thy  return." 

But  the  illustrious  prince  was  mad  with  love 

Of  Bidasari.     Pensively  he  cried: 

"  Branch  of  my  heart,  light  of  mine  eyes,  my  love, 

Pure  gold,  thou'rt  like  angel.     Now  must  I 

Depart.    To-morrow  I  will  come  again." 

With  no  more  words  he  left  her,  but  returned. 

"  My  heart  would  tell  me,  wert  thou  really  dead. 

Some  trouble  hast  thou,  dearest  one?  "  he  cried. 

"  What  bitter  grief  hath  caused  thee  thus  to  sleep  ?  " 

He  found  the  nobles  murmuring  and  vexed. 

"  O  King,"  they  said,  "  our  hearts  were  filled  with  fear 

Lest  evil  had  befallen  thee.     What  sight 

So  strange  hath  kept  thee  all  these  hours  ?  "    The  King 

Replied  with  laughter,  "  There  was  naught  to  see." 

But  they  remarked  his  brow  o'ercast  with  thought, 

And  said,  "  O  King,  thy  heart  is  sorely  vexed." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  the  King  replied,  "  I  fell  asleep. 

Naught  did  I  hear  except  the  mantri's  voice. 

It  surely  is  the  home  of  demons  dread 

And  spirits.     Let  us  go,  lest  they  surprise 

Us  here."     He  seemed  much  moved.     "  We  naught  have 

gained 

But  weariness.     So  let  us  all  go  home 
To-night,  and  hither  come  again  at  dawn. 
For  I  a  promise  gave  the  Queen  to  bring 
A  fawn  and  a  kidjang"    The  mantris  said : 
"  None  have  we  taken  yet.     But  game  we'll  find 
To-morrow,  and  will  save  a  pretty  fawn." 


40  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

The  King,  when  they  returned,  went  straight  within 

The  palace.    There  he  saw  the  Queen,  but  thought 

Of  Bidasari.     "  O  my  love,"  he  said, 

"  To-morrow  I'm  resolved  to  hunt  again, 

And  bring  thee  back  a  fawn,  and  win  thy  thanks. 

I'm  never  happy  when  away  from  thee, 

My  dearest  love.    Thine  image  is  engraved 

Upon  my  heart."     Then  he  caressed  the  Queen 

And  fondled  her,  but  still  his  heart  went  out 

To  Bidasari.     All  night  long  his  eyes 

He  did  not  close  in  sleep,  but  thought  of  her, 

In  all  her  beauty  rare.     Before  the  dawn 

The  royal  couple  rose.     The  King  then  gave 

Command  that  those  who  wished  should  hunt  again 

With  him.     At  sunrise  forth  they  fared. 

On  Bidasari  let  us  look  again. 

When  night  had  gone,  in  loneliness  she  rose, 

And  ate  and  drank.     Then  to  the  bath  perfumed 

She  went,  and  coming  to  her  chamber,  took 

Some  siri  from  the  betel-box.     She  saw 

A  sepah  recently  in  use  and  cast 

It  forth.     She  thought  within  herself: 

"  Who  could  have  used  it  ?    Someone  hath  been  here." 

She  ran  through  all  the  rooms,  but  nothing  found 

Except  the  sepah  in  the  betel-box. 

"  Had  it  my  father  been,  he  would  have  left 

Some  food  for  me.     Oh,  he  is  very  rash 

To  leave  me  here  alone."     Upon  the  couch 

She  sat  and  wept,  and  could  not  tell  her  grief 

To  anyone.     "  When  we  no  longer  may 

Live  happily,"  she  said,  "  'tis  best  to  die. 

My  parents  never  can  forgiven  be, 

To  leave  me  here  like  any  infidel. 

And  if  I  suffer,  they  will  sorrow,  too." 

The  minahs,  the  bajans,  and  talking  birds 

Began  to  sing.     She  took  a  'broidered  cloth, 

And  'neath  its  folds  she  sweetly  fell  asleep. 

The  King's  horse  flew  apace  to  the  campong 
Of  Bidasari.    All  the  mantris  said: 


BIDASARI 

"  Thou  takest  not  the  path  for  hunting,  sire ; 

This  is  but  the  campong  of  demons  dread 

And  spectres.    They  may  do  us  deadly  harm." 

The  great  prince  only  laughed,  and  made  as  if 

He  heard  not,  still  directing  his  fleet  course 

To  Bidasari's  garden,  though  they  sought 

His  wishes  to  oppose.     When  they  arrived 

Before  the  palisades,  the  mantris  cried : 

"  Avaunt,  ye  cursed  demons,  and  begone 

Into  the  thorns  and  briers."     Then  to  the  King : 

"  If  thou  wilt  prove  the  courage  of  thy  men, 

Lead  us  behind  the  barriers,  among 

The  evil  spirits.     We  will  go  with  thee." 

"  Nay.     Let  me  go  alone,"  the  prince  replied, 

"  And  very  shortly  I'll  come  forth  again." 

They  said :     "  O  prince,  to  us  thy  will  is  law. 

To  God  most  high  do  we  commend  thy  soul." 

Alone  the  prince  in  Bidasari's  home 

Set  foot.     He  was  astonished,  for  he  saw  the  bath 

Had  recently  been  used,  and  all  the  lamps 

Were  trimmed  and  full  of  oil.    Then  opening 

The  chests,  he  saw  the  traces  of  a  meal, 

And  glasses  freshly  drained.     The  chambers  all 

He  searched,  and  came  to  Bidasari's  couch, 

And,  lifting  up  the  curtains,  saw  her  there, 

Asleep  beneath  the  'broidered  covering. 

"  'Tis  certain  that  she  lives,"  he  said.     "  Perchance 

It  is  her  lot  to  live  at  night,  and  die 

At  dawn."    Then  came  he  nearer  yet,  and  gazed 

Upon  her  beauty.     Ling'ring  tears  he  saw 

Bedewed  her  lashes  long,  and  all  his  heart 

Was  sad.     Her  face  was  beautiful.     Her  locks 

Framed  it  with  curls  most  gracefully.     He  took 

Her  in  his  arms  and  cried,  with  kisses  warm : 

"  Why  hast  thou  suffered,  apple  of  my  eye  ?  " 

He  wept  abundantly,  and  said :     "  My  gold, 

My  ruby,  my  carbuncle  bright,  thy  face 

Is  like  Lila  Seprara's,  and  thy  birth 

Is  pure  and  spotless.     How  could  I  not  love 

A  being  fair  as  thou  dost  seem  to  me? 


42  MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

Thy  beauty  is  unspeakable ;  thou  art 

Above  all  crowns,  the  glory  of  all  lands. 

My  soul  adores  thee.     Lord  am  I  no  more 

Of  my  own  heart.     Without  thee,  love,  I  could 

No  longer  live;  thou  art  my  very  soul. 

Hast  thou  no  pity  to  bestow  on  me?  " 

The  more  he  looked  the  more  he  loved.     He  kissed 

Her  ruby  lips,  and  sang  this  low  pantoum: 

SONG 

Within  a  vase  there  stands  a  china  rose; 

Go  buy  a  box  of  betel,  dearest  one. 
I  love  the  beauty  that  thine  eyes  disclose ; 

Of  my  existence,  dear,  thou  art  the  sun. 

Go  buy  a  box  of  betel,  dearest  one. 

Adorned  with  countings  brave  of  sweet  campak, 
Of  my  existence,  dear,  thou  art  the  sun ; 

Without  thee,  everything  my  life  would  lack. 

Adorned  with  sountings  fair  of  sweet  campak, 
A  carafe  tall  will  hold  the  sherbet  rare ; 

Without  thee,  everything  my  heart  would  lack; 
Thou'rt  like  an  angel  come  from  heaven  so  fair. 

A  carafe  tall  will  hold  the  sherbet  rare, 

Most  excellent  for  woman's  feeble  frame. 

Thou'rt  like  an  angel  come  from  heaven  so  fair, 
Love's  consolation,  guardian  of  its  flame. 

At  the  approach  of  night  the  mantris  said, 

"  What  doth  the  King  so  long  away  from  us  ?  " 

They  were  disturbed,  the  prince  seemed  so  unlike 

Himself  and  filled  with  such  unrestfulness. 

"  I  fear  me  much,"  then  said  a  mantri  there, 

"  That  some  mishap  hath  overwhelmed  the  King. 

Perhaps  by  some  bad  spirit  he's  possessed, 

That  he  to  this  weird  spot  should  fain  return." 

One  went  and  cried :     "  Come  hither,  O  our  King ! 

The  day  declines ;  we've  waited  here  since  dawn." 


BIDASARI 

The  King  responded  to  the  call,  and  came 

With  smiling  face,  though  pale,  unto  the  gate : 

"  Come  here,  my  uncle ;  come  and  talk  with  me, 

Thy  King.     No  evil  thing  hath  come  to  pass." 

"  O  lord  supreme,  most  worthy  prince,  return. 

If  harm  should  come  to  thee,  we  all  should  die." 

"  Be  calm,  my  uncle,  I  will  not  this  night 

Return,  but  he  may  stay  with  me  who  wills." 

"  O  King,  with  spirits  what  hast  thou  to  do  ? 

Thy  face  is  pale  and  worn,  and  tells  of  care." 

The  King  but  sighed,  and  said :  "  My  heart  is  full 

Of  trouble,  but  the  will  of  God  is  good.    . 

Here  yesterday  a  fair  celestial  form 

With  angel  face  I  saw.     'Twas  here  alone." 

And  so  the  King  told  all  that  had  occurred. 

"  Go  back,"  he  added.     "  Leave  me  here  with  her. 

Say  to  the  Queen  I've  lingered  still  a  day 

For  my  amusement,  with  my  retinue." 

Then  half  the  escort  stayed,  and  half  repaired 

Back  to  the  palace  to  acquaint  the  Queen 

The  King  would  stay  another  day  and  hunt. 

When  all  was  dark,  sweet  Bidasari  waked 

And  saw.  the  King,  and  tried  to  flee  away. 

He  seized  and  kissed  her.     "  Ruby,  gold,"  he  said, 

"  My  soul,  my  life,  oh,  say,  where  wouldst  thou  go  ? 

I've  been  alone  with  thee  for  two  whole  days, 

And  all  the  day  thou  wrapped  in  sleep  didst  lie. 

Where  wouldst  thou  go,  my  dove  ?  "    The  gentle  girl 

Was  much  afraid  and  trembled,  and  she  thought: 

"  Is  it  a  spirit  come  to  find  me  here  ? 

Avaunt  thee  and  begone,  O  spectre  dread," 

She  said,  amid  her  tears.     "  No  phantom  I," 

Replied  the  King ;  "  be  not  afraid.     I  wish 

To  marry  thee."     Then  Bidasari  strove 

Again  to  flee.     Then  sang  the  King  a  song 

That  told  of  love  and  happiness.     Its  words 

Astonished  Bidasari,  and  she  cried: 

"  Art  thou  a  pirate?    Why  dost  thou  come  here? 

Speak  not  such  things  to  me.     If  thou  shouldst  be 

Discovered  by  my  father,  he  would  cut 


43 


44  MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

Thee  into  pieces.    Thou  shouldst  go  alone 

To  death,  and  find  no  pardon  in  his  heart. 

Take  all  my  gems  and  hasten  forth  at  once." 

The  King  replied :     "  'Tis  not  thy  gems  I  want, 

But  thee.     I  am  a  pirate,  but  thy  heart 

Is  all  I  want  to  steal.     Should  spectres  come 

In  thousands,  I  would  fear  them  not  at  all. 

No  tears,  my  love,  bright  glory  of  my  crown. 

Where  wouldst  thou  go  ?     Hast  thou  no  pity,  sweet, 

For  me  ?     I  am  a  powerful  prince.     Who  dares 

Oppose  my  will?    Pure  gold,  all  virginal, 

Where  wouldst  thou  go  ?  "     So  spake  the  King,  and  fair 

Young  Bidasari  trembled  more  and  more. 

"  Approach  me  not,"  she  cried,  "  but  let  me  bathe 

My  face."     "  I'll  bathe  it  for  thee,  dear,"  he  said. 

But  Bidasari  threw  the  water  pure 

Into  his  face.     "  Not  that  way,  child,"  he  laughed ; 

"  My  vesture  thou  hast  wet.     But  I  shall  stay 

And  meet  thy  parents  here.     Oh,  hearken,  love. 

I  followed  far  the  chase,  and  wandered  here. 

I  sought  a  pretty  fawn  to  take  the  Queen ; 

But  now  thy  face  I've  seen,  no  more  I  wish 

To  go  away.     Oh,  have  no  fear,  my  child ; 

I  would  not  harm  thee.     When  thy  parents  come, 

I'll  ask  them  for  thy  hand.     I  trust  they'll  grant 

My  prayer.     I'll  lead  thee  forth  from  this  fair  spot 

Unto  my  palace.     Thou  shalt  sit  beside 

The  Queen,  and  live  in  happiness  complete." 

Sweet  Bidasari  bowed  her  head  and  wept, 

All  red  with  modesty.     Unto  herself  she  said : 

"  I  never  thought  it  was  a  king.     How  rude 

I  was!     I  hope  the  King  will  not  be  vexed." 

He  calmed  her  fears  with  tender  words  of  love. 

"  Branch  of  my  heart,"  he  said,  "  light  of  my  eyes, 

Have  no  more  fear.     Soon  as  thy  parents  fond 

Have  given  their  consent,  I'll  lead  thee  forth. 

My  palace  is  not  far.     A  single  day 

Will  take  us  there.     It  is  not  difficult 

To  go  and  come."     Then  Bidasari  knew 

It  was  the  King  of  that  same  land.     With  fright 


BIDASARI 

She  nearly  swooned  at  thought  of  all  the  woe 

The  Queen  had  caused  her.     "  O  my  lord,"  she  said, 

"  I'm  but  a  subject  humble.     Give  me  not 

The  throne.     I  have  my  parents,  and  with  them 

Must  stay."    The  King  was  overjoyed.     "  My  dear," 

He  said,  "  by  what  names  are  thy  parents  known  ?  " 

With  low,  sweet  voice  the  tender  girl  replied: 

"  Lila  Djouhara  is  my  father's  name. 

He  dwelleth  in  Pesara."     "  Dearest  one, 

Tell  me  the  truth.     Why  have  they  treated  thee 

In  such  a  fashion — why  abandoned  thee 

In  solitude  ?    Thy  father  is  not  poor. 

A  merchant  rich  is  he,  of  birth,  who  hath 

A  host  of  slaves  and  servants.     For  what  cause 

Hath  he  his  daughter  left  in  this  far  spot? 

He  is  renowned  among  the  merchants  all, 

Both  good  and  honest.     What  hath  forced  him  here 

Within  this  lonely  wood  to  hide  thee,  dear? 

Oh,  tell  me  all ;  let  nothing  be  concealed." 

She  thought :     "  It  was  the  fault  of  his  own  Queen. 

But  if  I  tell  him  all — he  never  saw 

Me  there,  within  the  palace — should  he  not 

Believe,  I'll  be  a  liar  in  his  eyes." 

She  feared  to  speak  and  tell  him  of  the  Queen. 

She  thought,  "  So  cruel  was  the  Queen  to  me 

When  she  but  feared  a  rival,  what  would  come 

If  I  should  sit  beside  her  on  the  throne  ?  " 

Then  in  her  sweet  voice  Bidasari  said : 

"  My  glorious  King,  I  am  afraid  to  speak. 

I  am  not  suited  to  a  royal  throne. 

But  since  thou  lovest  me,  how  dare  I  lie? 

If  thou  dost  favor  me,  the  Queen  will  vex 

Her  heart.     My  parents  fear  her.     Tis  the  cause 

Why  hither  they  have  brought  me.     Three  long  months 

Ago  I  came,  for  terror  of  the  Queen." 

She  thought  on  all  the  horror  of  those  days, 

And  choked  with  sobs,  and  could  no  longer  talk. 

Then  tenderly  the  King  spake  to  the  girl : 

"  Ah,  well,  my  darling  love,  confide  in  me 

The  secret  thy  dear  heart  conceals.     Fear  naught; 


45 


46  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

The  Queen  is  good  and  wise,  and  knoweth  how 
To  win  all  hearts.     Why  should  she  render  thee 
Unhappy?     Speak  not  thus,  my  pretty  one; 
The  Queen  could  never  do  an  evil  deed. 
When  thou  art  near  her,  thou  shalt  see,  my  dear, 
Whether  she  loves  or  hates  thee." 

At  these  words 

Young  Bidasari  knew  the  King  esteemed 
The  Queen,  and  felt  her  heart  sink  in  her  breast. 
"  My  words  are  true,"  she  said,  "  but  still  perchance 
My  prince  cannot  believe.     But  was  I  not 
Within  thy  palace  six  or  seven  nights  ? 
The  sweat  of  pain  became  my  couch,  so  great 
Was  my  desire  to  see  my  parents  dear. 
They  sent  me  dainties,  but  all  the  dyangs 
Were  kept  as  prisoners  by  the  princess  there. 
She  said  she'd  take  me  back  herself.     One  day 
I  was,  indeed,  sent  home,  but  scarce  alive." 
She  told  him  everything  that  came  to  pass. 
He  listened  stupefied,  and  said :     "  How  could 
It  be  that  thou  wert  in  the  palace  hid, 
And  I  not  see  thee  there  ?     Why  was  it  thou 
Wert  not  beside  the  Queen  ?     I've  never  left 
The  palace  for  a  single  day.     Where  wert 
Thou  hid  ?    Thy  strange  words  I  believe,  my  dear. 
Speak  without  fear  and  let  me  know  the  whole." 
Urged  by  the  King,  young  Bidasari  told 
Him  all.     And  when  the  conduct  of  the  Queen 
He  learned,  the  King  was  wonder-struck.     A  rage 
Most  terrible  possessed  him.     But  his  love 
For  Bidasari  mounted  higher  still 
And  his  compassion.     "  So  the  Queen  thus  wrought ! 
I  never  thought  hypocrisy  could  be 
So  great !     I  never  in  the  princess  saw 
Such  bent  for  evil.     But  be  not,  my  dear, 
Disconsolate.     It  is  a  lucky  thing 
Thou  didst  not  quite  succumb.     No  longer  speak 
Of  that  bad  woman's  ways.     Thank  God  we've  met ! 
So  weep  no  more,  my  love.     I'll  give  to  thee 
A  throne  more  beautiful  than  hers,  and  be 


BIDASARI 

Thy  dear  companion  until  death."     "  O  King," 

She  said :  "  I  have  no  beauty  fit  to  grace 

A  throne.     Oh,  let  me  stay  a  simple  maid, 

And  think  of  me  no  more."    The  King  replied : 

"  I  will  not  give  thee  up.     But  I  must  still 

Return,  and  meditate  how  I  may  win 

Thee  back  to  life  complete."     With  kisses  warm 

He  covered  her  fair  face.     She  bowed  her  head, 

And  silence  kept ;  and  when  the  morning  dawned 

She  swooned  anew.     It  was  a  proof  to  him 

That  she  had  told  the  truth.     A  mortal  hate 

Then  filled  the  prince's  heart  against  the  Queen. 

Touched  with  deep  pity  for  the  maiden  young, 

He  kissed  her  once  again,  and  left  her  there, 

So  white  and  still,  as  if  she  lay  in  death. 

What  of  the  mantrisf     They  awaited  long 

The  King,  in  silence.     Then  the  oldest  said : 

"  O  sovereign  lord,  O  caliph  great,  wilt  thou 

Not  now  return  ?  "     "  I'll  come  again,  dear  heart," 

He  said,  and  sought  the  city.     Straight  he  went 

Into  the  palace,  to  the  Queen,  who  asked : 

"  What  bringest  thou  from  hunting  ?  "     He  replied 

In  murmurs :    "  I  have  taken  naught  at  all. 

For  my  own  pleasure  I  remained  all  night." 

"  Tis  nothing,  lord,  provided  no  harm  came 

To  thee.     But  say  what  thou  didst  seek,  to  stay 

So  long?     I  always  have  prepared  for  thee 

The  food  for  thy  great  hunts,  but  never  yet 

Have  I  received  a  recompense  ?  "    The  King 

To  this  replied  with  smiles :  "  Prepare  afresh, 

For  I  to-morrow  shall  depart  again. 

If  I  take  nothing,  I'll  return  at  once." 

As  he  caressed  the  Queen,  upon  her  breast 

He  felt  the  little  magic  fish  of  gold 

All  safe.    Then  gave  he  quick  commands  to  all. 

"  I'll  hunt  to-morrow,  and  shall  surely  bring 

Some  wondrous  game."     Now  when  the  princess  fell 

Asleep  he  found  upon  her  heart  no  more 

The  little  fish.     "  'Tis  as  the  maiden  said," 

He  thought.     "  The  princess  hath  a  wicked  soul. 


47 


48  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

With  such  a  heart  I  cannot  go  with  her 

Through  life."    Through  all  the  night  he  could  not  sleep, 

But  thought  upon  the  girl.     He  was  as  sad 

As  though  he  heard  a  touching  song.     At  dawn 

The  royal  couple  rose  and  went  to  bathe. 

The  King  into  the  palace  came  again 

And  sat  upon  the  throne  adorned  with  gems. 

He  donned  the  royal  robe  to  wear  before 

The  dear  young  girl.    A  vestment  'twas  of  silk, 

All  gold  embroidered,  with  a  tunic  bright, 

Of  orange  hue.     His  mien  was  most  superb, 

As  doth  become  a  mighty  king.     He  bore 

A  quiver  of  Ceylon,  most  deftly  wrought. 

When  all  the  mantris  had  assembled  there, 

The  King  within  the  palace  once  more  went 

And  met  the  Queen.     Caressing  her  he  took 

The  little  fish  that  lay  upon  her  breast. 

The  princess  wept,  and  at  the  door  she  cried : 

"  Why  takest  thou  my  little  ornament  ?  " 

The  great  King  gave  no  heed,  and  went  away, 

At  dawn's  glad  hour,  when  birds  begin  to  sing. 

Swords  gleamed  and  lances  shone,  and  through  the  wood 

They  hastened  on,  with  quivers  and  blow-guns, 

And  seemed  a  walking  city. 

Now  again 

To  Bidasari  let  us  turn.     When  dawn 
Appeared,  she  rose  and  sat  in  loneliness, 
Her  face  grew  still  more  beautiful.     Her  state 
Astonished  her.     "  Perhaps  it  is  the  King 
Who  hath  this  wonder  wrought.     How  happy  I 
To  be  no  longer  dead !  "     She  washed  her  face 
And  felt  still  sad,  but  with  her  pensiveness 
A  certain  joy  was  mingled,  for  her  pain 
Was  passed.     Her  grief  the  "  talking  bird  "  allayed 
With  songs  about  the  mighty  King  and  love. 

SONG 
There's  siri  in  a  golden  vase, 

Good  Dang  Melini  plants  a  rose ; 
The  King  admires  a  pretty  face, 

To-day  he'll  come  to  this  fair  close. 


BIDASARI  49 


Good  Dang  Melini  plants  a  rose, 
Here  in  the  garden  they  will  meet ; 

To-day  he'll  come  to  this  fair  close, 
To  man  and  maiden  love  is  sweet. 

Here  in  the  garden  they  will  meet, 
Go  seek  the  fairest  fruit  and  flower ; 

To  man  and  maiden  love  is  sweet, 
The  King  is  coming  to  the  bower. 


Lo!    At  this  very  instant  they  approached. 
Dear  Bidasari  hid  behind  the  couch. 
The  King  searched  everywhere,  and  found  at  last 
The  maiden  hiding,  bathed  in  bitter  tears. 
Then  kissing  her,  the  King  inquired :  "  My  love, 
Bright  glory  of  my  crown ;  pray  tell  to  me 
Why  thou  art  sad."     He  dried  her  tears.     But  she 
Still  hung  her  head  in  silence.     Then  the  King 
For  elephants  and  horses  to  be  sent 
Gave  orders.     "  Go  with  mantris  two  at  once, 
And  bring  the  merchant  and  his  wife,  and  bid 
Forty  dyangs  to  hasten  here  forthwith." 
Then  went  the  mantris  forth  in  haste,  and  found 
The  merchant  and  his  wife  and  said,  "  The  King 
Inviteth  ye  to  come."     Then  through  the  wood 
The  parents  hurried  to  the  plaisance  fair 
Of  Bidasari,  there  to  meet  the  King. 
Before  his  Majesty  they  bowed  with  fear. 
The  great  King  smiled.     "  Be  not  afraid,"  he  said, 
"  My  uncle  and  my  mother.     Let  us  go 
Within,  to  see  thy  lovely  child.     I  make 
Ye  now  my  parents.     We  have  friendly  been, 
And  still  shall  be."     Beside  the  King  they  saw 
Fair  Bidasari  seated,  as  with  steps 
Still  hesitating  they  the  palace  sought. 
The  father  fond  was  glad  within  his  heart, 
His  daughter  was  so  beautiful.     She  seemed 
A  princess  lovely  of  the  Mount  Lidang. 
4 


50  MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

"  Dear  Bidasari,  sweetest  child,"  they  said, 

"  Behind  the  King,  dear  daughter,  thou  should  stand." 

She  made  as  if  to  go,  but  still  the  King 

Restrained  her.     "  No,  my  pretty  one,"  he  said, 

"  Thy  place  is  at  my  side.     So  God  hath  willed." 

The  oldest  mantri,  called  for  counsel,  spoke : 

"  Lila  Djouhara  good,  what  sayest  thou  ? 

Art  thou  not  glad  to  see  thy  daughter  made 

A  queen  ?    What  happiness  hath  come  to  thee !  " 

The  merchant  bowed  before  the  King,  and  said : 

"  Make  her  thy  servant,  not  thy  wife,  my  lord. 

Thy  glorious  Queen  we  fear.     She  e'er  hath  shown 

For  Bidasari  hatred  dire,  because 

A  child  so  lovely  might  attract  the  King." 

The  monarch  hearing  him  thus  speak,  still  more 

Toward  him  was  borne.     "  My  uncle,"  then  he  cried, 

"  Have  no  more  fear.     But  never  shall  I  make 

A  servant  of  thy  daughter." 

Then  he  gave 

Command  to  build  a  castle  in  the  wood. 
And  all  the  workers  came,  and  built  it  there, 
With  ramparts  three.     As  if  by  magic  then 
A  golden  palace  rose.    The  outer  gate 
Was  iron,  loaded  down  with  arms,  and  held 
By  demons  and  by  Ethiopians. 
These  were  the  keepers  of  the  gates,  with  steeds 
Untamed.    With  swords  unsheathed  they  stood  alert 
And  waited  for  the  King's  commands.     Of  brass 
All  chiselled  was  the  second  gate,  supplied 
With  cannons  and  with  powder,  guarded  safe 
By  beings  supernatural.     The  third 
Was  silver,  such  as  may  be  seen  in  far 
Eirak.    The  beauty  of  the  castle  was 
Beyond  compare !     From  far  it  seemed  to  be 
As  double,  like  an  elephant  with  two 
White  ivory  tusks.     Where  may  its  like  be  found? 
Three  diamonds  pure  reflected  all  the  light, 
Big  as  a  melon.     Now  the  castle  built, 
The  King  a  plaisance  beautiful  desired 


BIDASARI  5I 

With  gay  pavilions,  and  all  kinds  of  plants. 
The  middle  booth  nine  spacious  rooms  displayed, 
One  for  the  royal  audiences,  adorned 
And  pleasant  as  a  bed  of  flowers. 

The  King 

A  festival  maintained  for  forty  days, 
With  games  and  sports  and  dances  to  divert. 
And  never  was  such  animation  seen ! 
All  ate  and  drank  to  sound  of  music  sweet. 
They  passed  the  loving-cup  and  drank  to  each 
In  turn. 

For  forty  days  resounded  there 
The  gongs  and  gendarangs,  and  joyous  tones 
Of  gay  serouni  and  nefiri  glad. 
"  How  beautiful  is  Bidasari !  "  all 
Exclaimed ;  "  a  thousand  times  more  lovely  than 
The  Queen."    Thrice  happy  are  the  merchant  now 
And  his  good  wife ;  by  marriage  they're  allied 
To  our  great  King,  though  strangers  to  the  land. 
We  count  it  strange  that  Bidasari's  face 
In  naught  is  like  the  merchant  nor  his  wife. 
Who  knoweth  but  that  she,  in  mortal  shape, 
An  angel  fair  may  be?     Full  many  slaves 
The  merchant  hath,  but  never  children  own." 
"  He  found  her  when  a  babe,  upon  the  shore," 
Another  said,  "  and  brought  her  up." 

The  King 

Heard  all  their  words.     He  thought :     "  It  is  the  truth 
And  this  I  take  as  proof  of  her  high  birth. 
She  certainly  is  noble  or  come  down 
From  heaven." 

When  four  days  had  fled,  the  wives 
Of  mantris  dressed  the  beauteous  girl.    They  clad 
Her  form  in  satins  soft  of  Egypt,  shot 
With  gold,  adorned  with  precious  stones  inset 
And  many  gems.     Her  beauty  was  enhanced 
The  more,  till  she  a  radiant  angel  seemed. 
She  wore  a  tunic,  crimson  and  pomegranate, 
With  buttons  shaped  like  butterflies.     She  was 


52  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

Adorned  with  padaka  of  five  quaint  clasps, 

And  belt  called  naga  souma.     Ear-rings  rich 

She  had,  of  diamonds  set  in  gold,  and  wrought 

Most  wondrously,  as  bright  as  daylight's  gleam ; 

A  ring  most  marvellous  and  rare  she  wore 

Called  astakouna,  and  another  named 

Gland  kana,  and  a  third  from  far  Ceylon, 

Studded  with  precious  stones.     Her  eyes  were  like 

The  stars  of  orient  skies.     Her  teeth  were  black, 

Her  face  like  water  shone.     Her  chiselled  nose 

Was  prominent  and  like  a  flower  fresh  culled. 

When  she  was  dressed,  upon  a  couch  of  pearls 

Her  mother  put  her.     Supple  was  her  form, 

And  white,  as  she  reclined,  by  many  maids 

Surrounded.    In  his  royal  garb  the  prince 

Was  clad,  and  dazzling  to  the  eyes  of  all 

Who  saw.     He  wore  a  kingly  crown  which  shone 

With  diamonds  bright  and  lucent  amethysts 

And  many  stones,  and  all  majestic  seemed. 

Then  rice  was  brought.     The  King  with  pleasure  ate, 

And  what  was  left  he  gave  the  mantris'  wives. 

When  all  had  finished  he  perfumed  himself 

And  gazed  upon  his  lovely  wife.     Her  face 

And  form  were  charming.     Her  soft  tresses  curled 

In  grace.     Her  eyes  still  kept  the  trace  of  tears, 

Which  made  her  lovelier.    The  silken  folds 

Of  soft  Egyptian  curtains  fell.    They  were  alone. 

"Awake,  my  darling,"  said  the  prince  at  dawn, 

"  Crown  of  my  life,  awake,  my  pretty  one." 

Then  Bidasari  waked  and  said,  with  tears : 

"  My  friend,  I  had  all  sorts  of  wondrous  dreams. 

I  saw  a  palm-tree  tall  with  tufted  limbs, 

And  fruits  all  ripe."    When  three  days  more  had  fled 

And  all  the  people  saw  and  loud  acclaimed, 

Then  Bidasari  took  the  rank  of  Queen. 

The  King  o'erloaded  her  with  gifts  and  loved 

Her  tenderly.     "Oh,  let  us  live  and  die 

Together,  dear,  and,  as  the  days  go  by, 

Think  more  of  one  another,  and  our  love 

Preserve,  as  in  the  hollow  of  the  hand 


BIDASARI 

Oil  is  upheld,  nor  falls  a  single  drop." 
So  spake  the  King. 

The  merchant  and  his  wife 
Were  soon  established  in  the  neighborhood, 
Near  to  Queen  Bidasari's  palace  grand. 
A  hundred  servants  had  they  to  fulfil 
Their  orders.    They  sent  gifts  to  all  their  friends, 
And  food  to  last  a  month. 

A  certain  day 

It  chanced  that  Bidasari  said :   "  O  King, 
Why  goest  thou  no  more  within  the  gates 
Of  that  thine  other  palace  ?     Of  a  truth 
Queen  Lila  Sari  will  be  vexed,  because 
Thou  hast  abandoned  her  so  long  a  time. 
She'll  think  that  I  have  kept  thee  from  her  side 
Unwilling  thou  shouldst  go."     So,  with  all  sorts 
Of  words,  fair  Bidasari  strove  to  urge 
The  King  to  visit  Lila  Sari.     "  I 
Will  go  to-morrow,"  finally  he  said. 
He  went,  when  morning  came,  and  met  the  Queen. 
She  turned  him  back,  and  with  sharp,  bitter  words 
Reproached  him.     "  Wretched  one,  I  will  not  see 
Thy  face.     I  love  thee  not.     I  hate  thee.     Go! 
Lila  Djouhara's  son-in-law,  thou'rt  not 
To  me  an  equal.     Thy  new  wife's  an  ape, 
Who  liveth  in  the  woods." 

But  when  the  King 

Heard  these  vociferations  of  the  Queen, 
He  said :     "  Branch  of  my  heart,  light  of  my  eyes, 
Oh,  be  not  vexed,  my  dear.     It  was  not  I 
Who  wrong  began,  but  thou  didst  cause  it  all. 
For  thou  didst  hide  thy  deed  from  me,  and  drive 
Me  on  to  this  extremity.     Oh,  why 
Art  thou  now  angry  with  me  ?     If  thou  wilt 
But  love  her,  and  attach  thy  heart  to  hers, 
She'll  pardon  thee,  and  take  thee  as  a  friend." 
As  more  and  more  enraged  the  Queen  became, 
Her  wrath  with  strong  reproaches  overflowed. 
"  Depart  from  here,  accursed  of  God !    Thou  art 
No  longer  husband  mine.     Go  live  with  her 


53 


54  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

Whom  God  hath  struck,  but  whom  thou  dost  delight 

To  honor.     Formerly  of  noble  blood 

Thou  wert,  but  now  no  more  than  broken  straw. 

Thou  needst  not  further  try  to  flatter  me. 

Though  thou  shouldst  purify  thyself  seven  times,  false  one, 

I'd  not  permit  thee  to  approach  my  side." 

The  King  grew  angry  and  replied :   "  'Tis  thou 

Who  art  despicable.     Thy  cunning  tricks 

Are  worthless  now.    Thy  jealousy  insane 

Was  without  cause,  and  common  were  thy  acts. 

Thy  wit  is  much  below  thy  beauty.     Ill 

Will  follow  thee,  should  I  protection  cease." 

"  Have  I  forgot  my  noble  birth  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  But  thou  hast  erred,  to  lower  thine  high  estate 

To  people  of  such  base  extraction.     Here 

And  everywhere  thy  shame  is  known,  that  thou 

Art  wedded  to  a  gadabout.     Is  it 

For  princes  thus  to  wed  a  merchant's  child? 

She  ought  far  in  the  woods  to  dwell,  and  know 

Most  evil  destiny."    The  King  but  smiled 

And  said :    "  If  this  event  is  noised  abroad, 

'Tis  thou  who  wilt  receive  an  evil  name. 

For  who  in  all  the  land  would  dare  prevent 

The  King  from  marrying?     I  ought  to  take 

From  thee  all  I  have  given.     But  before 

The  people  I've  no  wish  to  humble  thee. 

Is  it  because  I  met  thy  every  wish 

That  thou  art  grown  so  bad?    Most  evil  hath 

Thy  conduct  been,  and  I  with  thee  am  wroth," 

And  in  hot  anger  rushed  the  King  away, 

And  straight  repaired  to  Bidasari's  side. 


SONG  IV 

THIS  song  will  tell  again  about  the  prince 
Of  Kembajat,  most  powerful.    He  was  chased 
By  fell  garouda,  horrid  bird  of  prey, 
And  sought  another  land.     His  way  he  took 
Toward  Indrapura.     At  the  break  of  dawn 
A  daughter  fair  was  born,  a  princess  true, 
Within  a  boat  that  lay  upon  a  shore. 
The  Queen  and  he  abandoned  her,  and  went 
Back  to  the  royal  palace  and  for  days 
Bemoaned  her  fate.     Of  her  they  nothing  heard. 
"  Alas  my  child !  "  the  father  cried,  "  my  dear, 
In  whose  care  art  thou  now  ?    We  do  not  know 
If  thou  art  dead  or  living.     Thus  thy  sire 
Hath  no  repose.     Light  of  mine  eyes,  my  love, 
My  purest  gold,  our  hearts  are  torn  with  grief. 
An  evil  fate  was  ours  to  hide  thee  there. 
We  do  repent  the  deed.     To  think  that  thou 
Perchance  hath  fallen  among  the  poorest  folk ! 
A  slave  perhaps  thou  art !  "    The  prince's  son 
Remarked  the  sorrow  of  his  parents  dear, 
And  was  profoundly  moved.     "  Have  I,"  he  asked, 
"  A  sister  ?    Tell  me  why  have  ye  concealed 
Her  far  away  ?     Did  ye  not  care  for  her  ? 
Was  she  a  burden  that  ye  must  forsake 
Her  thus  ?     Doth  shame  not  fill  your  parents'  hearts  ?  " 
But  when  he  heard  the  tale  in  full,  he  said  : 
"  O  father,  let  me  go  to  seek  for  her, 
My  sister  dear.     If  I  succeed  I'll  bring 
Her  back  to  thee."     "  Oh,  leave  us  not,  my  son," 
The  father  said.     "  Thou  art  our  only  heir. 
Like  a  tamed  bird  upon  our  shoulders  fain 
We've  carried  thee,  and  watched  thee,  day  and  night. 
Why  shouldst  thou  leave  us  now?    Oh,  go  not  forth. 

55 


56  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

Vex  not  thyself  about  thy  sister  dear. 
From  travellers  we  shall  get  news  of  her, 
And  her  abode  discover." 

Then  the  prince 

Bowed  low  and  said :  "  My  father,  lord,  and  King, 
I  am  but  strengthened  in  my  wish  to  go 
And  find  my  sister.     Let  me  now  depart, 
And  seek  for  news  of  her."    The  King  replied : 
"  Well,  go,  my  dearest  son ;  thy  heart  is  good. 
Though  but  a  child  thou  still  dost  bear  a  brain." 
Then  summoned  the  young  prince  the  merchants  all, 
And  bought  much  goods  and  questioned  them  in  turn 
About  all  neighboring  villages  and  camps. 
They  told  whate'er  they  knew  most  willingly, 
For  much  the  young  prince  was  beloved  by  them. 
Among  them  was  a  youth  of  handsome  face, 
Fair  Bidasari's  foster-brother  tall. 
Amid  the  strangers  sat  he  near  the  throne; 
His  name  was  Sinapati.     He  was  brave 
And  wise.     Now  as  he  watched  the  prince  he  thought, 
"  How  strangely  like  dear  Bidasari's  face 
Is  his,  as  when  a  reed  is  split  in  twain 
There  is  no  difference  between  the  halves." 
His  home  he  left  when  Bidasari  fair 
Became  the  Queen.     He  thought  of  her  and  wept. 
The  prince  observed  him  there,  and  said,  with  smiles : 
"  Young  man,  my  friend,  from  what  far  town  art  thou  ? 
Why  dost  thou  weep  so  bitterly?    What  thoughts 
Arise  in  thee  and  make  thy  visage  dark  ?  " 
Young  Sinapati  bowed  and  said :   "  My  lord, 
I  came  from  Indrapura,  in  a  ship, 
My  wares  to  sell.     For  that  I  do  not  weep. 
But  sorrow  cometh  to  my  heart  whene'er 
I  think  upon  my  home,  and  brothers  dear, 
And  sisters." 

At  these  words  the  prince  rejoiced. 
He  thought,  "  From  him  some  news  I'll  surely  learn." 
Sherbets  and  dainties  then  to  all  the  folk 
He  offered,  and  the  cup  went  'round  from  dawn 
Till  noon,  and  then  the  merchants  went  away ; 


BIDASARI  57 

But  the  young  prince  kept  Sinapati  there. 

Now  he  already  strong  affection  felt 

For  him  and  said :  "  My  friend,  toward  thee  I'm  moved 

And  look  upon  thee  as  a  brother  dear. 

Thou  dost  at  Indrapura  live,  but  who 

May  be  thy  patron  there  ?  "    Then  with  a  smile 

Young  Sinapati  said :    "  My  patron's  called 

Lila  Djouhara,  merchant  great.     He  owns 

Some  six  or  seven  swift  ships,  and  toileth  more 

Than  ever  since  he  Bidasari  took 

As  child."     In  two  days'  time  the  young  prince  went 

With  Sinapati  to  his  father's  house. 

"  I  bring  thee  news,"  he  said,  "but  nothing  yet 

Is  sure.     Behold  from  Indrapura  far 

A  youth,  from  whom  I've  things  of  import  great. 

A  merchant  of  Pesara,  very  rich, 

My  sister  must  have  found.     All  well  agrees 

With  what  to  me  thou  saidst.     Now  must  we  seek 

For  confirmation  of  the  glad  report." 

To  Sinapati  gold  and  gems  they  gave. 

Then  spake  the  King :     "  If  this  be  so  I'll  send 

An  envoy  bearing  richest  gifts,  and  thanks 

Within  a  letter  writ." 

The  youthful  prince 

Bowed  low  and  said :  "  Oh,  send  me  on  this  quest ! 
Lila  Djouhara  I  would  like  to  see. 
Perhaps  he's  virtuous  and  just.     If  I 
Am  made  full  sure  it  is  my  sister  dear, 
I'll  send  a  messenger.     And  if  it  be 
I'll  bring  her  back." 

The  King  was  moved 

To  hear  his  son  thus  speak.     "  O  dearest  child," 
He  said :   "  I'm  very  loath  to  let  thee  go. 
But  thou  must  many  horsemen  take  with  thee, 
Lest  thou  shouldst  long  be  absent." 

"  Why  should  I 

Be  long  away  ?  "  the  prince  replied,  with  bows ; 
"  For  if  Lila  Djouhara  will  not  let 
Her  come,  I  shall  forthwith  return  to  thee." 
The  King  could  now  no  more  object.     He  gave 


58  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

Commands  to  make  an  expedition  great. 
With  richest  gifts,  and  food,  and  princely  things, 
And  sent  him  forth  with  blessings  on  his  head. 
"  Stay  not  too  long ;  thou  art  my  only  hope," 
The  King  exclaimed ;  "  I'm  getting  old,  my  son, 
And  thou  my  heir  upon  the  throne  must  be." 
They  started  early  on  the  fourteenth  day 
Of  that  same  month.     And  Sinapati  rode 
Beside  the  Prince. 

Some  went  on  foot  and  some 
On  horses.     When  they  far  had  gone,  the  prince 
Said  to  the  youth :  "  Now  listen,  friend.     When  we 
Arrive  thou  must  not  name  my  family 
And  rank.     I'm  someone  from  another  town. 
It  doth  not  please  me  to  declare  my  rank 
To  strangers.     Should  the  girl  my  sister  prove, 
Thou  mayst  tell  all,  for  I  shall  soon  return." 
Thus  speaking,  the  young  prince  his  way  maintained, 
And  soon  arrived  near  to  the  city  sought. 
He  Sinapati  left,  and  went  within 
The  gates,  with  four  companions,  true  as  steel, 
And  six  attendants.    They  at  once  repaired 
To  the  campong  of  good  Lila  Djouhara. 
They  found  it  closed,  with  a  forsaken  look. 
"  There's  no  one  here.     The  King  hath  taken  all 
Away,  both  old  and  young,"  said  the  mandar. 
Then  Sinapati  beat  his  breast  and  said: 
"  What  hath  become  of  my  dear  patron,  then  ?  " 
"  Be  not  disturbed.     No  harm  hath  come  to  him. 
The  merchant  with  the  King  hath  gone,  because 
The  King  hath  married  Bidasari  fair, 
And  made  of  her  a  queen,  and  built  a  fine 
New  palace  in  the  country  wild.    There  all 
Is  joy  and  happiness."     Beyond  all  count 
Was  Sinapati  glad  to  hear  these  words. 
Then  to  the  prince  he  said :  "  My  gracious  lord, 
Lila  Djouhara's  near  at  hand.     He  is 
In  highest  favor  with  the  King,  and  bears 
A  title  new."    They  hurried  forth  to  find 
His  residence.    "  It  is  the  left  campong" 


BIDASARI  59 

Remarked  a  country-man.     "  Thy  lord  is  grand 

And  powerful  now,  and  master  of  us  here. 

The  King  hath  now  become  his  son-in-law." 

Then  Sinapati  went  within  the  gates 

And  saw  his  mother  there.     Her  heart  was  touched. 

She  kissed  him  and  inquired,  "  Whom  hast  thou  brought?  " 

"  It  is  a  friend,"  he  answered.     "  Come,  my  lord," 

She  to  the  young  prince  said,  "  enter  and  rest." 

"  He's  so  like  Bidasari,"  to  herself 

She  said.     "  What  is  thy  name,  my  brave  young  man, 

Thou  seemest  nobly  born.     In  very  truth 

Thou'rt  handsome  and  well  mannered."    Then  the  prince 

Said :     "  Poutra  Bangsawan  I'm  called.    Thy  son 

I've  followed  here."     But  Sinapati  paid 

Him  homage,  and  they  knew  him  for  a  prince. 

Before  his  door  young  Sinapati  slept 

At  night  to  guard  him  safe.     Next  day  there  came 

An  invitation  from  Lila  Mengindra 

(Before,  Djouhara).     So  they  started  forth. 

Lila  Mengindra  was  astonished  quite 

To  see  the  prince's  face  so  beautiful. 

"  Who  is  this  most  distinguished  stranger  here  ?  " 

He  asked  himself.     "  My  master,  speak  a  word 

To  Poutra  Bangsawan,  a  friend  of  mine," 

Said  Sinapati.     So  the  old  man  turned 

And  spoke  unto  the  prince,  "  Come  here,  my  son, 

And  sit  thee  near  thy  father."     He  felt  drawn 

To  him,  he  looked  so  much  like  Bidasari. 

The  young  prince  smiled  and  on  the  dais  sat. 

"  What  is  thy  visit's  purpose  ?  "  then  inquired 

The  good  old  man.    The  prince  with  bows  polite 

Replied :   "  I'm  but  a  humble  stranger,  come 

To  find  my  sister.     I  bespeak  thine  aid." 

"  Be  not  afraid,  my  son,  but  trust  in  me, 

Nor  fear  to  give  thy  sister's  name.     If  thou 

Wilt  have  it  so  I'll  take  thee  for  a  son ; 

I  love  thee  for  thou  hast  a  face  so  like 

My  daughter's."    Then  the  brave  young  prince  began 

And  told  his  sister's  story,  how  she  was 

In  time  of  stress  abandoned  on  the  shore. 


6o  MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

"  And  if  I  only  knew,"  he  said,  "  where  now 

She  is,  I'd  be  her  master's  willing  slave." 

Now  when  Lila  Mengindra  heard  his  tale 

His  joy  was  quite  unspeakable.     His  love 

For  Bidasari's  brother  greater  grew. 

With  smiles  he  asked :     "  Now,  Poutra  Bangsawan, 

Say  of  what  family  thou  art,  that  I 

May  aid  thee  in  thy  quest,  and  help  thee  find 

Thy  sister."     Then  the  young  prince  bowed  his  head 

And  pondered,  "  Shall  I  lie  ?  "     For  he  knew  not 

If  'twere  his  sister.     Lila  saw  his  mood 

And  said :     "  Be  not  disturbed.     It  is  most  sure 

That  thy  dear  sister's  here.     So  speak  the  truth, 

That  my  old  heart  may  be  surcharged  with  joy. 

Thy  sister's  seated  on  a  throne,  and  like 

A  brilliant  jewel  is  her  family. 

Be  no  more  sorry.    As  for  me,  my  heart 

Is  full  of  joy." 

The  prince  looked  in  his  face 
And  said :   "  Can  I  confide  in  him  ?     I  am 
A  stranger  here  and  fear  to  be  deceived." 
Said  Sinapati :  "  Speak  not  thus,  I  pray, 
For  everybody  knows  this  man  can  tell 
Ten-carat  gold  from  dross.     Now  list,  my  lord. 
Although  he  bids  me  silent  be,  a  prince 
He  is,  son  of  a  powerful  king,  and  conies 
To  seek  his  sister."    Then  within  his  heart 
The  former  merchant  much  rejoiced,  as  if 
He'd  found  a  mountain  of  pure  gems.     He  paid 
His  homage  to  the  prince  in  proper  form, 
And  took  him  into  his  abode,  to  meet 
His  wife  and  all  within.    The  spouses  two 
To  him  exclaimed :    "  Dear  prince,  in  our  old  age 
We're  very  happy.     When  thy  sister  sweet 
We  found,  o'erjoyed  were  we.     And  now  the  King 
Hath  married  her,  and  raised  her  to  the  throne. 
He  hath  our  family  to  noble  rank 
Upraised,  and  covered  us  with  benefits." 
Then  smiling  said  the  prince :   "  I  learn  with  joy 
My  sister  sweet  is  here.     When  may  I  go 


BIDASARI  61 

Before  the  King  and  see  her?    For  I've  come 

To  take  her  home.    And  yet  I  fear  the  King 

Will  never  let  her  go  away  from  him. 

When  I  have  seen  her  I'll  return  again." 

In  three  days'  time  the  King  gave  audience. 

The  former  merchant  with  him  took  the  prince, 

Who  sent  the  richest  presents  on  before. 

The  princeling  was  most  gorgeously  attired 

And  bore  himself  with  haughty  dignity. 

His  robe  was  rich,  his  tunic  violet 

And  fire.     His  many-colored  turban  bore 

Bright  agates.    At  his  girdle  hung  his  kriss. 

He  was  entirely  clad  as  prince  should  be, 

And  bracelets  wore  with  little  bells  and  rings. 

His  leggings  were  embroidered  with  bright  flowers 

Called  pouspa  angatan.     He  seemed  divine — 

His  beauty  was  extraordinary.     Pearls 

In  numbers  countless  covered  all  his  garb; 

An  amulet  he  had  with  sacred  verse 

From  the  Koran,  a  diamond  pure.     He  rode 

A  steed  most  richly  housed,  with  shabraque  decked 

With  gleaming  jewels  casting  rays  of  light. 

Twas  thus  the  prince  set  out  to  meet  the  King. 

Lila  Mengindra  with  him  went.    The  prince 

Approached  the  King's  pavilion,  and  at  once 

The  King  remarked  his  beauty  and  his  mien 

Of  noble  grace.     "  Who  can  he  be  ?  "  he  thought. 

Meanwhile  the  prince  dismounted  and  appeared 

Before  the  King.     Full  seven  times  he  bowed 

And  said,  "  O  may  your  happiness  increase, 

Illustrious  sovereign !  " 

Then  the  King  with  smiles 
Lila  Mengindra  questioned,  "  Who  is  this 
Thou  hither  bringest,  of  such  noble  mien 
And  amiable  face  ?  " 

With  humble  bow 

The  former  merchant  said :  "  This  slave  of  thine 
Has  come  from  lands  remote,  from  Kembajat, 
Upon  the  seashore,  since  thy  Majesty 
He  wished  to  see.    His  presents  few  he  sent 


62  MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

Before  him,  which  he  hopes  thou  wilt  accept." 

The  former  merchant  thought :    "  I  would  his  rank 

Divulge.     But  some  might  think  I  lied  because 

The  King  hath  Bidasari  wed,  and  if 

She  knew  she  was  a  princess  born  she  might 

Be  very  vain  and  haughty." 

To  the  prince 

The  King  was  very  friendly.     "  Come  and  sit 
Here  by  my  side,"  he  said,  "  for  thee  I  deem 
A  brother."     "  Let  me  here  remain,  my  lord, 
I  am  a  poor  unworthy  servitor. 
I  hope  that  thou  wilt  pardon  me.     I  would 
I  might  become  a  subject  of  thy  crown." 
The  King  thought :   "  This  may  be  some  royal  heir 
Who  here  hath  wandered.     He  resembles  much 
Our  Bidasari.     Pity  'tis  that  he 
Unto  another  nation  doth  belong." 
Then  pleasantly  he  said :  "  Pray,  truly  tell 
What  is  thine  origin?     Keep  nothing  back. 
What  is  thy  name?    The  whole  truth  let  me  know." 
The  young  prince  bowed  him  low  and  said :  "  My  name 
Is  Poutra  Bangsawan,  of  family 
Most  humble.     I  am  searching  everywhere 
To  find  a  sister  lost.     When  she  is  found 
I  shall  return  at  once."    Then  said  the  King: 
"Where  is  thy  sister?    I  will  help  thy  search. 
Stay  here  with  me  a  month  or  two,  that  we 
May  learn  to  know  ea,ch  other  and  become 
Fast  friends."    The  young  prince  then  obeisance  made 
And  said :  "  I  bear  thine  orders  on  my  head. 
Thou  art  a  king  illustrious,  and  I 
A  humble  servitor.     I  am  the  son 
Of  good  Lila  Mengindra,  but  for  long 
I've  absent  been.     My  sister  dear  I  seek. 
Thine  aid  I  do  bespeak.     From  Kembajat 
I  come,  a  subject  of  thy  father  there,  the  King. 
Forgive  me,  lord,  for  now  thou  knowest  all." 
The  King  rejoiced  to  hear  a  voice  that  seemed 
So  much  like  Bidasari's,  and  inquired 
Of  Sinapati,  "  Tell  me  now  his  race." 


BIDASARI  63 

Then  Sinapati  bowed  and  said :     "  My  lord, 

Of  princes  and  of  caliphs  is  his  race. 

His  kingdom,  not  so  far,  is  most  superb; 

His  palace  is  most  beautiful  and  grand. 

Swift  ships  within  the  harbor  lie,  all  well 

Equipped."    At  this  the  King  enchanted  was, 

To  find  a  prince  was  brother  to  his  wife. 

Still  more  he  asked  and  Sinapati  said: 

"  Because  his  realm  was  ravaged  by  the  foe 

He  hath  misfortunes  suffered  manifold." 

Then  knew  the  King  he  was  of  royal  blood 

And  had  adversity  experienced. 

The  King  came  from  his  throne  and  said,  "  My  friend, 

My  palace  enter."     So  the  King  and  prince 

Went  in.    They  met  fair  Bidasari  there. 

She  sat  beside  a  Chinese  window  quaint, 

All  choicely  carved.     She  saw  the  King  and  thought, 

"  What  fine  young  man  is  this  he  bringeth  here  ?  " 

When  they  were  seated  all,  the  young  prince  looked 

At  Bidasari :    "  Beautiful  is  she," 

He  thought,  "  my  sister  dear,  and  very  like 

My  father."    Then  the  King  with  smiling  face 

Said :  "  Bidasari,  darling,  speak  to  him. 

He  is  thy  younger  brother,  come  to  seek 

Thee  here.     From  Kembajat  he  came.     And  thy 

Dear  father  mourns  for  thee  the  livelong  day." 

At  this  fair  Bidasari  sighed.     She  bowed 

Her  head  and  silence  kept.     She  much  was  moved 

Because  she  had  not  known  her  parents  true, 

But  fancied  them  Djouhara  and  his  wife. 

"  I'm  but  a  merchant's  daughter,"  finally 

She  said.     "  Things  all  uncertain  this  young  prince 

Hath  told.     If  I'm  the  daughter  of  a  King, 

Why  hath  he  left  me  here,  and  never  sought 

For  me  through  all  these  years?     Tis  not  so  far 

From  here  to  Kembajat."    The  young  prince  bowed. 

"  Thy  words  I  bear  upon  my  head,"  he  said, 

"  O  sister  dear.     Pray  banish  from  thy  heart 

All  hatred.     If  thou'rt  lowly  born,  I  am 

Likewise.     Our  realm  was  ravaged  at  thy  birth. 


64  MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

But  shortly  afterward  fair  peace  returned, 
And  to  his  own  my  father  came  again. 
I've  seen  how  much  he  suffers  in  his  heart. 
Thy  name  he  never  utters  without  tears — 
He  never  hath  forgotten  thee.     Forgive 
Him,  then,  in  what  he  was  remiss.     Except 
For  stern  necessity  he  never  would 
Have  thee  abandoned." 

Then  the  King  with  smiles 

Said :  "  Speak  to  him,  my  dear.     He  tells  the  truth. 
Thy  parents  wandered  through  a  desert  land 
Beneath  a  cruel  sun.     Impossible 
It  was  to  carry  thee  through  brier  and  brush." 
Down  at  his  sister's  feet  the  young  prince  knelt. 
Then  Bidasari  clasped  him  in  her  arms. 
The  brave  young  prince  to  them  recounted  all 
The  sorrows  of  his  parents.     Much  he  wept, 
And  they  wept,  too,  as  he  the  story  told. 
Then  sat  they  down  to  dine.    And  afterward 
They  siri  took  and  perfumes  of  all  kinds. 
Then  the  young  prince  took  leave.     "  Where  goest  thou, 
My  brother  ?  "  asked  the  King.     "  I  fain  would  go 
Straight  home  to  my  dear  parents,"  said  the  prince. 
But,  with  a  voice  affectionate,  the  King 
Replied :  "  Seek  not  Lila  Mengindra.    Here 
Thou  shouldst  remain,  for  thou  hast  met  within 
This  palace  thy  dear  sister.    There  is  room 
Enough  for  thee.     Stay  here  with  all  thy  folk 
And  retinue."    The  prince  bowed  low,  and  forth 
Unto  the  merchant  went,  and  to  him  said: 
"  Within  the  palace  now  I  shall  remain 
With  all  my  retinue,  for  thus  the  King 
Commands."     The  merchant  said :    "  Tis  very  well, 
For  where  can  one  lodge  better  than  within 
The  palace  ?  "     So  the  prince  returned,  with  all 
His  people,  to  the  palace  of  the  King. 
Then  all  the  mantris  came,  and  festivals 
And  feasts  were  held.     As  long  as  he  remained 
At  Indrapura,  the  young  prince  received 
All  courtesies.     And  Bidasari  fair 


BIDASARI  65 

Was  known  as  daughter  of  a  mighty  king. 
The  news  was  carried  far  and  wide,  and  all 
Repeated  how  her  brother  brave  had  come 
To  seek  for  her. 

Queen  Lila  Sari  heard 
And  was  surprised.     She  sighed  in  solitude, 
And  felt  a  woe  unspeakable.     She  said 
To  a  mandar:  "  I  was  in  too  much  haste. 
On  the  dyangs  I  counted,  but  they  come 
No  more.     All  four  have  gone  and  homage  paid 
To  Bidasari.     All  my  tricks  are  foiled. 
In  no  one  can  I  trust."     Dang  Lila  then 
Approached  and  said :  "  Acts  of  unfaithfulness 
Bring  never  happiness.     God's  on  the  side 
Of  loyalty.    Now  those  dyangs  are  sad 
And  languish  after  thee,  but  fear  the  King, 
Dost  thou  not  think,  O  Queen,  thou  ill  hast  wrought? 
For  while  the  King  is  absent  none  will  come 
Thy  heart  to  cheer."     The  Queen  replied  with  ire : 
"  Seek  not  to  consolation  give.     The  King 
Esteems  me  not.     I'll  not  humiliate 
Myself  before  him.     Who  is  that  young  prince, 
So  called,  who  hither  came?    A  pirate's  son 
He  well  may  prove,  and  calls  himself  a  prince. 
Go  ye,  dyangs,  pay  service  to  the  King, 
And  he  may  favor  ye  as  he  did  her." 
She  seemed  most  wroth.     But  she  repented  sore 
In  truth,  and  pined  away  in  sorrow  deep. 
In  other  days  she  had  no  wish  nor  whim 
Unsatisfied.     Now  all  were  for  the  King. 
The  Queen's  heart  angrier  grew  from  day  to  day 
As  if  a  scorpion's  sting  had  wounded  her. 
And  her  distress  grew  greater  when  she  thought 
Upon  the  love  of  other  days.     Her  heart 
Was  inconsolable  because  so  bitterly 
She  missed  the  pomp  and  glory  of  her  court. 
But  Bidasari  to  the  King  one  day 
Said :  "  Send  back  these  mendars;  for  if  they  all 
Stay  here,  Queen  Lila  Sari  all  alone 
Will  be."    The  King  with  smiles  replied :    "  Oh,  no ! 
5 


66  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

I  will  not  let  them  go.     She  is  so  fell 

And  barbarous,  she  no  one  loves.     She  is 

Much  better  all  alone."    Then  to  the  King 

Fair  Bidasari  said :    "  Thine  anger  was 

Too  prompt.     She  spoke  in  wrath  because  she  was 

Accustomed  to  a  court.     In  what  to  thee 

Hath  she  been  wanting,  that  thou  shouldst  repel 

Her  thus  ?    Thou  gav'st  her  love,  and  now  thou  dost 

Abandon  her  in  sorrow.     Be  not  thus 

Incensed  with  her,  for  should  she  come  to  want 

The  shame  would  be  reflected  on  thy  head." 

The  King's  face  lighted,  and  he  said :     "  My  dear, 

I  went  to  see  her,  but  she  drove  me  forth 

With  bitter  words.     Her  conduct  was  beyond 

All  bearing.     And  she  heaped  on  me  abuse." 

But  Princess  Bidasari  said :  "  Dwell  not 

On  that,  my  friend.     She  was  disturbed  by  wrath 

And  jealousy.     In  other  days  thou  didst 

Embrace  and  kiss  her.     Now  she  is  alone. 

And  thou  perchance  didst  somehow  hurt 

Or  bruise  her  body."    All  his  anger  left 

The  King  at  this.     He  said :  "  O  purest  soul, 

Thou  speakest  well  and  wisely.     How  could  I 

Not  love  thee,  dear,  and  cling  to  thee  for  life? 

Oh,  never  may  we  separated  be ! 

Branch  of  my  heart,  light  of  my  eyes,  thou  dost 

But  good  desire.     Thou'rt  all  the  world  to  me. 

I'll  go  to  her,  since  thou  doth  ask.     Perchance 

A  reconciliation  may  be  made. 

But  she  must  first  admit  her  faults.     If  she 

Repentance  shows,  to  see  her  I  will  go." 

The  merchant's  wife  had  come  and  heard  these  words. 

Her  warm  tears  fell.     She  thought  within  herself, 

"  My  daughter  hath  no  vengeance  in  her  heart." 

Then  Dang  Bidouri  brought  delicious  rice 

Unto  the  King  and  Queen.     They  ate  and  drank, 

And  stronger  grew  their  love  from  hour  to  hour. 

Then  gave  the  King  commands  to  call  the  prince. 

He  came  with  smiling  face  and  graceful  bows. 

"  Sit  here  beside  us,"  said  the  King,  and  all 


BIDASARI  67 

The  three  dined  there  together,  royal  ones, 
Surrounded  by  deft  servants  and  dyangs. 
They  chatted  gayly,  and,  with  laughter,  ate. 
When  all  was  finished,  from  the  betel-box 
The  King  of  siri  took,  perfumed  himself, 
And  then  the  prince  retired. 

When  two  short  months 

Had  fled,  the  prince  bethought  him  of  his  home 
And  parents.     To  himself  he  said,  "  I'll  go." 
He  gave  commands  to  preparation  make 
For  his  departure.     "  I  am  loath  to  leave 
My  sister,"  he  to  Sinapati  said. 
"  My  life  is  joyous  here.     But  there  at  home 
I've  left  my  parents  in  solicitude." 
Then  Sinapati  bowed  and  said,  "  With  thee 
I'll  go." 


SONG  V 

A  CERTAIN  day  the  mantris  came 
Before  the  King,  in  the  pavilion  grand. 
And  with  them  came  the  youthful  prince,  and  cast 
Himself  before  the  throne.    The  King  with  smiles 
Said :    "  Sit  thou  at  my  side,  my  brother  dear, 
I  have  not  seen  thee  for  a  day  entire." 
The  princeling  bowed  and  said :   "  My  gracious  lord 
If  thou  wilt  pardon  me,  I  would  return 
And  give  my  parents  dear  the  joyful  news. 
My  father  bade  me  seek  my  sister  lost, 
And  still  he  nothing  knows  of  her  good  fate." 
The  King  replied  with  sorrow :   "  Brother  mine, 
Why  wilt  thou  go  so  soon?    We  scarcely  are 
Acquainted,  and  I  have  not  had  enough 
Of  thy  dear  company."    The  prince  replied: 
"  Oh,  be  not  sorrowful,  my  gracious  lord. 
As  soon  as  I  have  my  dear  father  seen 
I'll  tell  him  what  good  things  have  come  to  pass. 
'Twill  soothe  his  heart  to  hear  my  sister's  joy. 
My  parents  will  be  glad  in  learning  all 
Thy  goodness  great.     And  pray  consider  me 
Thy  subject  leal.     Soon  I'll  return  again." 
The  King's  emotion  grew.     With  pleasant  voice 
He  said :  "  Take  counsel  of  thy  sister.     Heed 
What  she  may  say."    They  found  the  Queen  within, 
Fair  Bidasari,  and  attending  her 
Dyang  Agous  Djouhari.     All  sat  down 
And  took  some  siri  from  the  betel-box. 
The  Queen  to  the  young  prince  then  spoke :  "  Come  here. 
My  brother,  why  have  I  thy  face  not  seen 
For  two  long  days  ?  "    With  bows  the  prince  replied : 
"  I've  had  a  multitude  of  things  to  do. 
Thus  came  I  not;  for  my  companions  all 

68 


BIDASARI  69 

Seek  homeward  to  return.    So  I  must  take 

My  leave  of  thee  upon  the  morrow  morn, 

When  pales  the  silver  moon  before  the  dawn." 

The  Queen  was  grieved  to  hear  these  words,  and  shed 

A  flood  of  tears.     Her  tender  heart  was  touched. 

Beside  herself  with  sorrow  she  exclaimed : 

"  O  prince  illustrious !     How  canst  thou  go, 

Since  we  have  met  ?    I've  loved  thee  from  the  time 

I  knew  thou  wert  my  brother.     I  am  grieved 

To  hear  thee  say  thou  wilt  so  soon  depart. 

Of  low  extraction  must  I  be!     'Twas  wrong 

For  thee  to  call  thyself  my  brother.     I 

A  poor  and  feeble  orphan  am,  and  how 

Should  I  the  love  deserve  of  a  great  prince  ?  " 

When  this  he  heard  the  prince  bowed  low  his  head 

And  was  much  troubled.    "  Sister  sweet,"  he  said, 

"  Grieve  not  like  this.     I  only  do  return 

Because  our  parents  must  so  anxious  be. 

I  love  thee  so,  my  darling,  that  my  heart 

Is  nearly  breaking.     If  thou  speakest  thus 

To  me,  my  dear,  my  grief  will  still  increase. 

I  could  not  leave  thee,  but  I  must  respect 

Our  parents'  wishes.    They  commanded  me 

All  haste  to  make.    So — sweet — I  pray  thee  have 

Compassion  on  me." 

Much  disturbed,  the  King 
Observed  the  sorrow  of  the  princess  fair. 
He  kissed  her  lips,  to  her  a  sepah  gave, 
And  said  with  tender  voice :    "  My  darling  wife, 
What  dost  thou  wish  ?    Let  now  thy  brother  go. 
We'll  see  thy  parents  here  ere  many  days." 
The  Queen  wept  bitterly,  and  said  to  him: 
"  His  wishes  I  do  not  oppose.     Let  him 
Do  whatsoe'er  it  pleaseth  him  to  do. 
For  I  am  but  a  stranger,  a  lost  child, 
And  who  should  think  of  me  or  love  me  true  ?  " 
Then  bowed  the  prince  and  said :  "  In  very  truth, 
I  know  thou  art  my  sister.     Speak  not  thus. 
God  knows  how  much  I  love  thee,  sister  mine. 
If  thou  dost  not  permit  me  to  depart 


7o  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

I'll  not  resist.     I'm  happy  here  with  thee, 

But  our  dear  parents  are  in  cruel  doubt, 

And  look  for  news  of  thee.     Now  that  I  know 

Thy  husband  is  a  king,  our  parents  dear 

Would  be  so  overjoyed  to  learn  it  too !  " 

Then  spoke  the  King  with  face  all  radiant, 

"  Return  not,  brother  mine,"  he  said.    "  I'll  send 

Swift  messengers  to  bear  the  gladsome  news 

That  Bidasari's  found.     Then,  if  he  wills, 

Thy  royal  father  here  we'll  hope  to  see. 

I'll  go  myself  to  meet  him  when  he  comes." 

The  young  prince  bowed  and  said :  "  Nay,  rather  send 

Thy  messengers,  a  great  king  cannot  go 

So  far  away."     Queen  Bidasari  heard 

These  words  and  much  rejoiced,  and  gayly  gave 

Her  brother  then  her  betel-box. 

The  King 

Caressed  his  wife  and  said, "  My  dearest  soul, 
Love  not  thy  brother  more  than  me."     He  called 
Lila  Mengindra.     Soon  the  merchant  came 
Before  the  King  and  prince.     The  King  exclaimed : 
"  Come  here,  my  uncle.    Tell  me,  wilt  thou  take 
A  letter  to  the  King  of  Kembajat — 
To  prove  to  him  we  live  ?  " 

So  spake  the  King 

And  called  his  counsellor  of  state,  who  came 
And  kissed  his  hands.    The  King  then  bade  him  write 
A  letter,  all  in  characters  of  gold. 
"  Well,"  cried  the  King,  "  let's  hear  the  letter  now." 
"  Now  glory  be  to  God,"  it  thus  began, 
And  all  fair  Bidasari's  history 
Recited.    Then  the  King  a  mighty  host 
Assembled  and  with  elephants  and  steeds 
Ten  mantris  took  the  letter  of  the  prince 
Unto  his  parents.    With  the  cavalcade 
There  went  a  laksimana  great,  who  bore, 
As  king's  ambassador,  bejewelled  flags 
And  standards  rich,  and  presents  of  much  worth. 
Then  Sinapati  by  the  King  was  called 
A  laksimana  mantri,  and  received 


BIDASARI 

A  fine  equipment,  with  a  hundred  men 

To  follow  him.    'Twas  thus  the  King  preserved 

His  reputation  as  a  mighty  king. 

When  he  had  sent  the  embassy,  the  King 
Went  to  his  wife,  and  they  were  very  gay. 
His  love  for  her  grew  greater  every  day. 
The  former  merchant  also  was  beloved. 
He  gave  the  King  good  counsel,  and  obeyed 
His  orders  willingly.    He  often  dined 
Together  with  the  King  and  Queen.    His  wealth 
Grew  vast.    No  one  at  all  could  with  him  vie, 
In  Indrapura.    He  was  much  attached 
To  the  chief  mantri.    They  were  equals  both 
In  prudence,  wisdom,  and  fidelity, 
With  power  unquestioned  over  all  the  folk. 
Beneath  their  sway  prosperity  increased, 
And  many  merchants  came  from  far  and  wide. 
The  kingdom  was  at  peace.    The  King  rejoiced, 
And  everyone  was  happy  in  the  land. 


SONG  VI 

THE  laksimana  mantri  now  I'll  sing, 
Who  went  upon  the  embassy.    As  soon 
As  the  great  King  of  Kembajat  had  news 
Of  his  arrival,  he  was  much  rejoiced. 
He  told  the  Queen,  and  in  the  audience-hall 
Awaited.    Then  went  forth  the  officers 
With  elephants  and  payongs.    A  countless  throng 
Attended  them,  with  music  and  with  flags. 
They  met  the  embassy,  and,  with  rich  gifts, 
They  gave  the  King's  commands.    Into  the  town 
Then  entered  all.    The  King  was  very  glad, 
As  if  his  only  daughter  had  returned. 
All  bowed  before  the  King,  who  took  the  gifts, 
While  servants  took  the  letter  to  the  chief 
Of  mantris.    And  he  gave  it  to  the  King. 
The  monarch  read,  and  was  possessed  with  joy. 
He  could  not  thank  enough  the  merchant  good, 
Who  raised  his  daughter  to  a  royal  throne. 
He  wished  forthwith  to  go  and  see  his  child. 
The  letter  cordial  invitation  gave. 
But  one  thing  troubled  him :  "  He  straight  inquired, 
'  Hath  not  the  prince,  my  son,  the  liberty 
To  come  back  home  ?  ' '     The  laksimana  bowed 
And  said :  "  The  King  wished  not  to  let  him  come 
And  begged  with  tears  that  he  would  stay.    The  Queen 
Feared  if  her  brother  went  she'd  never  see 
Her  father.    From  your  children  both  I  bring 
Warm  greetings.    Kind  indulgence  from  your  heart 
They  ask,  and  press  their  invitation.    I 
Crave  pardon  for  myself,  O  King,  and  hope 
Thy  children  dear  may  see  their  father's  face, 
And  that  the  kingdoms  may  become  one  realm." 
At  these  words  smiled  the  King.    "  Ah,  well !  "  he  said, 

72 


BIDASARI  73 

"  I'll  wait  for  seven  days  still."    Then  questions  flew, 
And  the  great  king  learned  all  about  his  child. 

The  Indrapura  mantris  went  apart 

When  evening  came.    A  separate  palace  grand 

The  King  assigned  them,  with  the  best  of  food. 

He  orders  gave  for  preparations  great. 

Unto  the  Queen  he  said :    "  In  seven  days'  time, 

My  dear,  I  look  to  start,  for  I  shall  have 

No  peace  until  I've  seen  our  darling  child." 

Then  he  assembled  there  his  mantris  all, 

Both  young  and  old,  with  elephants  and  steeds. 

And  all  was  ready  to  set  forth,  as  he  had  wished. 

The  while  the  morning  stars  were  twinkling  still, 

The  royal  gong  resounded  many  times. 

The  guards  leaped  forth  with  joy.    The  officers 

Came  out  and  took  their  shining  helms  of  war. 

Their  naked  swords  all  glistened.    It  was  thus 

They  made  the  glittering  royal  cavalcade. 

Their  flags  and  banners  flaunted  in  the  air, 

All  those  who  stayed  behind  were  sad,  as  if 

A  knife  had  cut  them.    All  together  marched, 

The  lancers  and  the  horsemen,  and  they  seemed 

A  moving  city.    Soon  all  darkened  was 

The  moon,  as  someone  sorrowful.    The  swords 

And  lances  glistened  like  an  island  in 

The  middle  of  the  sea.    Thus  is  described 

The  royal  escort  marching  through  the  land. 

The  King  was  mounted  on  an  elephant, 

His  jfn-bearer  seated  close  behind. 

A  rich  payong  of  royalty,  all  tricked 

With  bells,  was  stretched  above  his  head, 

And  drums  and  other  instruments  without 

Cessation  sounded.    Thus  went  forth  the  King, 

And  soon  to  Indrapura  came. 

When  near 

He  halted  and  forthwith  an  envoy  sent 
His  coming  to  announce,  together  with 
The  laksimana  mantri.  "  Mighty  King," 
They  said,  "  thy  royal  father  hath  arrived." 


74  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

The  King  his  heralds  ordered  then  to  call 

Lila  Mengindra.    With  a  smile  he  said 

To  him :  "  Assemble  in  the  square  the  folk 

And  army.    Straight  to  my  pavilion  let 

Them  come,  and  all  in  holiday  attire, 

For  I  my  father  am  to  meet  to-day." 

Lila  Mengindra  bowed  and  hied  him  forth 

To  execute  the  orders  of  the  King. 

The  King  within  his  palace  went,  and  sat 

Upon  a  jewelled  seat.    The  Queen  was  there, 

And  good  Lila  Mengindra  at  her  side. 

The  King  said  smilingly :  "  Light  of  my  eyes, 

Let  all  the  palace  decorated  be. 

Assemble  all  the  palace  folk  and  all 

The  younger  girls.    For  now  without  the  gates 

Our  parents  wait.    To-morrow  I  shall  go 

To  meet  them."    Then  Queen  Bidasari  cried, 

With  smiles :    "  My  brother  they  have  come  to  see. 

I  cannot  go  before  them  and  declare 

Myself  their  daughter."  But  the  young  prince  said : 

"  Oh,  speak  not  thus,  my  sister,  but  give  heed 

To  what  I  say  to  thee,  and  be  not  wroth. 

If  I'm  the  only  one  they  love,  alone 

I'll  go  with  them  away."    Then  to  the  King 

He  said :  "  With  my  dear  sister  I  but  jest, 

To  quiet  her  alarms."    He  bowed  before  the  King 

And  asked  permission  forth  to  go  at  once 

To  meet  his  father.    "  Nay,"  replied  the  King, 

"  We'll  go  together."    A  repast  was  served 

With  every  kind  of  food.    The  royal  three 

Together  ate.    Then  from  the  betel-box 

They  siri  took,  and  perfumes  sweet  they  used. 

The  prince  then  from  the  palace  forth  did  go. 

Next  day  the  King  invited  him  to  start 

With  him  upon  the  royal  progress.    All 

The  banners  waved,  and  everyone  was  glad. 

Then  to  the  Queen  he  said :    "  Stay  here,  my  love, 

And  I  will  hither  bring  thy  father  dear." 

These  words  rejoiced  the  Queen.    She  said:   "  Go  forth, 

My  dear,  and  I  will  follow  with  my  eyes." 


BIDASARI  75 

The  King  then  took  his  leave  with  the  young  prince, 
With  many  mantris  following.    The  strains 
Of  gladsome  music  sounded.    All  the  bells 
Were  rung,  and  those  without  the  cavalcade 
Were  sad. 

Ere  long  they  came  to  the  frontier, 
And  King  met  King.    The  folk  of  Kembajat 
Were  all  astonished  at  the  young  King's  face, 
As  beautiful  as  painter's  masterpiece. 
The  old  King  looked  with  smiles  on  all.    His  joy 
Was  great.    The  King  of  Indrapura  bowed 
Respectfully,  and  made  them  bring  to  him 
The  elephant  that  bore  'neath  gay  payong 
His  consort's  father.    "  Son,  where  goest  thou?" 
"  I've  come  to  seek  thee."    Then  the  old  King  said: 
"  Why  didst  thou  come  in  person  ?    'Twould  have  been 
Enough  if  thou  hadst  mantris  sent  instead." 
His  joy  o'erflowed  his  heart.    His  son-in-law 
He  greatly  loved.    Upon  his  elephant 
He  said :    "  Approach,  my  son,  thou  art  a  king 
Renowned.    Thy  body  and  thy  soul  are  both 
Alike,  and  both  of  royal  stock !  "    He  pressed 
Him  in  his  arms  and  said :    "  Light  of  my  eyes, 
Almighty  God  hath  heard  my  many  prayers, 
And  granted  me  a  perfect  son-in-law." 
The  King  of  Indrapura  bowed  and  smiled 
Most  graciously.    Then  to  the  young  prince  said 
His  father :    "  Mount,  my  son,  beside  me,  here." 
The  young  prince  mounted  at  his  father's  side. 
He  was  as  beautiful  as  chiselled  gold. 

Within  the  town  the  kings  made  entry  then 

Amid  a  joyous  throng.    When  they  had  come, 

The  former  merchant  bowed  before  them  both, 

The  mangkouboumi  now.    The  mighty  King 

Of  Indrapura  bowed  and  said :    "  My  sire, 

Speak  to  my  uncle  here ;  for  he  brought  up 

Thy  daughter."    Scarcely  had  the  old  King  heard 

These  words  than  he  exclaimed  with  joy :    "  Come  here, 

My  brother,  let  us  now  acquaintance  make." 


76  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

The  old  King,  seated  on  his  elephant, 

Shed  all  about  him  rays  of  happiness, 

And  all  the  people  there  were  greatly  moved. 

"  This  is  my  brother  well  beloved,"  he  said, 

And  kissed  his  brow.    "  How  great  hath  been  his  love, 

His  faithfulness  has  proved  beyond  compare." 

The  former  merchant  bowed,  and  to  the  King 

Replied :  "  I  am  thy  slave,  O  King,  and  bear 

Thine  orders  on  my  head.    Thou  dost  o'erwhelm 

Thy  servant  with  thy  favor."    Then  upon 

The  royal  throne,  which  was  all  gem-bedecked, 

The  old  King  sat,  the  young  prince  at  his  side, 

With  all  the  mantris  near.    Then  came  the  Queen 

Consort.    The  prince  and  Bidasari  fair 

Came  from  their  seats,  their  mother  to  receive. 

All  entered  then  the  palace.    The  young  Queen, 

Fair  Bidasari,  bowed  and  was  embraced 

By  both  her  parents.    With  a  flood  of  tears 

Her  .father  said :    "  Alas,  my  darling  child, 

Fruit  of  my  heart,  light  of  my  eyes,  keep  not 

A  hatred  in  thy  soul  against  us  now. 

The  will  of  God  is  now  made  manifest. 

We  long  have  separated  been.    At  last 

We  see  each  other  with  our  very  eyes. 

Great  wrong  we  did  thus  to  abandon  thee, 

But  still  let  not  thy  heart  a  stranger  be 

To  us.    Peace  later  came  to  our  dear  land — 

Such  was  our  destiny.    What  could  we  do  ? 

We  were  in  flight.    We  thought, '  May  God  decree 

Some  honorable  man  shall  find  her  here ! ' 

How  can  we  now  be  glad  enough  'twas  thus 

Ordained !    What  recompense  can  we  present  ?  " 

Sweet  Bidasari  wept  as  she  recalled 

The  past.    The  King  her  husband  was  much  moved, 

And  felt  great  pity  when  her  tears  he  saw. 

And  all  were  sad  with  sorrow  mixed  with  joy, 

Because  they  knew  she  was  of  royal  birth. 

Food  now  was  served,  and  quickly  the  dyangs 

Brought  salvers  for  the  princes.    The  two  kings 

Ate  of  the  rice  till  they  were  surfeited, 


BIDASARI  77 

Then  to  their  children  offered  it.    All  took 

The  siri  placed  before  them,  and  straightway 

Themselves  anointed  with  rare  perfumes  sweet. 

When  all  had  eaten,  the  five  royal  ones 

Lila  Mengindra  called,  and  gave  to  him 

The  remnants  of  the  feast.    The  kings  then  spoke 

To  him  and  to  his  wife.    They  both  bowed  low 

And  kissed  the  royal  hands.    Then  said  the  King 

Of  Kembajat :  "  My  children,  I  had  planned — 

In  case  we  ever  met  on  earth  and  ere 

The  prey  of  death  became — a  feast  to  give, 

To  last  a  month,  and  to  it  ye  invite. 

In  triumph  I  my  daughter  fain  would  bear, 

With  all  of  ye.    I  would  at  once  repair 

Unto  the  isle  of  Nousa  Antara, 

And  there  I'd  hold  a  royal  festival 

With  all  the  members  of  our  family, 

And  all  the  bitis,  mandars,  and  dyangs. 

Such  was  my  plan — if  ever  I  should  find 

My  daughter  dear.    Now  while  this  moon  doth  last 

Let  me  the  project  see  fulfilled  before 

Your  parents  come  to  die." 

The  gracious  King 

Of  Indrapura  at  these  words  bowed  low 
And  said :  "  I  bear  thy  words  upon  my  head. 
It  shall  be  done  as  thou  hast  wished,  my  King." 
And  when  the  evening  came  all  was  prepared. 
Soft  mattresses  were  spread,  and  the  two  queens 
Betook  them  to  their  chambers,  and  the  rich 
Egyptian  curtains  fell.    They  vainly  sought  to  sleep. 
They  talked  together  of  their  sorrows  past 
And  evil  days.    And  neither  kings  nor  queens 
That  night  could  slumber. 

At  the  break  of  day 

The  talking  bird  began  to  sing  and  prate. 
A  little  later  the  bajangs  began 
Their  song.    Then  all  arose,  and  bathed,  and  broke 
Their  fast,  and  chattered  and  amused  themselves. 
The  King  of  Indrapura  then  gave  word 
Unto  the  mangkouboumi:  "  All  prepare 


78  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

That's  necessary,  ere  the  moon  be  full. 
Get  ready  all  the  various  kinds  of  ships, 
And  load  them  down  with  every  sort  of  arms. 
Prepare  all  sorts  of  games  to  pass  the  time, 
And  get  in  order  all  the  cannons  great 
And  fire-arms.    Thus  the  King  commands." 

Straightway 

The  mangkouboumi  bowed  before  the  King, 
And  went  his  orders  to  obey.    He  made 
The  ships  all  ready,  with  new  paint  and  gold. 
When  three  were  well  equipped,  on  board  he  took 
The  people  of  the  city.    All  the  old 
Were  left  behind,  but  of  the  young  none  stayed. 
Then  to  the  King  the  mangkouboumi  said, 
"  All  is  prepared."    At  this  the  King  rejoiced, 
And  to  the  King  of  Kembajat  sent  word, 
Who  told  his  wife,  and  she  was  all  aglow. 
They  started  from  the  palace,  kings  and  queen 
And  prince,  and  lovely  Bidasari,  too, 
Attended  by  the  courtiers  all.    The  strains 
Of  music  sounded  and  the  bells  were  rung. 
All  those  whose  lot  it  was  to  stay  at  home 
Were  pained,  as  if  a  knife  had  stricken  them. 
The  cannons  roared ;  the  royal  banners  waved. 

In  three  days'  sail  they  reached  the  island  fair, 
Of  Nousa  Antara,  and  the  ships  made  fast. 
The  two  queens  sat  and  watched  the  deft  dyangs 
Take  up  the  coral  white  and  pink,  and  toyed 
With  pretty  shells.    The  King  set  foot  upon 
The  isle  of  Nousa  Antara.    The  King 
And  his  dear  wife  upon  the  shore  came  forth, 
With  their  sweet  daughter  Bidasari  pure. 
The  King  of  Indrapura  with  them  went, 
The  prince  walked  near  them  on  the  left. 

The  King 

Of  Indrapura  ordered  that  a  tent 
Be  raised,  and  one  was  made.    It  was  as  large 
As  any  palace,  set  with  royal  throne. 
The  two  queens  entered  it  and  sought  repose. 


BIDASARI  79 

The  prince  before  his  father  bowed  and  said, 

"  My  royal  father,  let  me  go  and  hunt." 

To  this  the  King  of  Kembajat  replied, 

"  Do  what  thou  dost  desire,  light  of  my  eyes." 

The  King  of  Indrapura  said  with  smiles, 

"  I'll  go  with  thee  to  hunt,  my  brother  dear." 

The  prince  replied,  "  I  shall  in  truth  be  charmed, 

My  brother."    "  Forth  we'll  fare  to-morrow  morn," 

Returned  the  King  of  Indrapura.    "  Call 

The  folk  together." 

When  the  dawn  appeared, 
The  King  and  prince  together  started  forth, 
Escorted  by  a  band  of  hunters  tried, 
And  beat  the  woods  for  game.    The  King  and  prince 
And  all  their  following  made  rapid  work. 
The  game  took  flight.    The  King  then  drew  his  bow 
And  many  animals  were  killed.    A  deer 
Came  running  by.    His  arrow  struck  him  full 
Upon  the  shoulder,  and  the  huntsmen  seized 
And  quickly  killed  him.    In  the  pathless  woods 
Of  Nousa  Antara  there  was  much  game. 
A  tiger  roared,  the  King  and  prince  pursued. 
The  tiger  swiftly  fled.    The  prince  sat  down 
Within  the  forest  deep.    To  overtake 
The  beast  he  was  unable.    To  return 
He  sought,  but  could  not  find  the  way.    Alone 
He  was,  and  in  perplexity,  because 
His  huntsmen  he  no  longer  could  descry. 
Then,  wandering  to  and  fro,  he  found  at  last 
A  pleasure  garden  of  the  days  gone  by, 
Belonging  to  King  Lila,  beautiful 
And  without  flaw.     He  was  astonished  quite 
When  he  perceived  a  palace.    All  alone 
He  found  himself,  when  he  had  entered  there. 
He  walked  about,  but  found  no  living  soul. 
Unto  himself  he  said :    "  Can  this  domain 
A  habitation  be  of  demons  dread 
And  spirits  ?    Can  this  be  the  cause  of  all 
The  solitude  which  reigns  ?  "    On  all  sides  then 
He  looked.    All  suddenly  a  voice  he  heard, 


8o  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

But  still  no  one  could  see.    Amazed  he  stood. 

The  mystic  voice  exclaimed,  "  Have  pity,  lord, 

And  free  me  from  this  room."    As  in  a  dream 

The  prince  these  accents  heard.    He  answered  then : 

"  Who  art  thou  ?    Whose  strange  voice  is  this  I  hear, 

The  while  I  no  one  see  ?    Dost  thou  belong 

Unto  the  race  of  demons  and  of  spectres  ? 

Where  is  the  key,  that  I  may  ope  the  door  ?  " 

Then  the  dyang  of  Mendoudari  said 

Unto  the  prince :    "  Look  toward  the  left,  for  there 

The  key  thou'lt  find  that  opes  the  palace  tower." 

He  took  the  key  and  opened  wide  the  door. 

All  those  who  were  within,  when  they  beheld 

The  prince's  face,  fell  prostrate  at  his  feet. 

To  them  the  prince  cried  out :    "  Say  to  what  race 

Ye  do  belong.    This  quickly  tell.    And  whose 

This  palace  beautiful  ?  "    Then  answered  him 

Dang  Tjindra  Melini:  "  O  Royal  prince, 

We  are  God's  creatures,  like  to  thee.    And  this 

Fair  palace  of  the  King  Lila  is  now 

By  Ifrid  occupied,  a  spirit-king, 

With  whom  now  lives  the  prince  illustrious, 

Lila.    His  daughter,  Princess  Mendoudari, 

Is  shut  alone  within  a  chamber  here, 

And  Ifrid,  king  of  spirits,  cometh  oft. 

On  every  third  day  cometh  he.    His  eyes 

Are  brilliant  as  the  sun."    When  this  he  heard 

The  prince  was  glad.    The  room  he  entered  then. 

The  Princess  Mendoudari  sought  to  flee. 

"  Where  wouldst  thou  go,  my  friend,"  he  said.  "  I've  sought 

And  found  thee.    Do  not  flee  away  from  me." 

The  Princess  Mendoudari  said  with  tears : 

"  And  art  thou  mad  enough  hither  to  come  ? 

The  spirits  will  destroy  thee  without  doubt." 

These  words  rejoiced  the  prince,  and  to  her  then 

He  sang  a  low  sweet  song  of  love  and  wooing. 

The  princess  answered  with  a  dreamy  chant. 

And  when  the  young  prince  heard  her  gentle  lay 

He  felt  a  yearning  pity  for  her  fate. 

"  Be  not  afraid,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "  for  I 


BIDASARI  81 

Will  triumph  over  all  thine  enemies." 

Then  Dang  Sendari  served  them  dainty  food ; 

And  what  was  left,  to  her  the  princess  gave. 

The  prince  too  siri  from  the  betel-box 

And  rare  sweet  perfumes  used.    When  evening  came, 

A  soft  couch  for  the  prince  was  spread.    And  then 

The  princess  sought  her  room,  and  curtains  drew 

Of  rich  Egyptian  stuff.    The  prince  had  asked, 

"When  comes  the  spirit-king?"    And  she  had  said, 

"  At  early  dawn."    The  young  prince  could  not  sleep, 

But  through  the  long  night  hours  sang  soft  pantoums. 

When  daylight  came  the  prince  arose.    He  heard 

A  spirit  coming  to  the  palace.    Then  with  fear 

Was  seized  the  princess  fair.     "  Behold,"  she  cried, 

"  He  cometh."    Then  the  young  prince  took  his  arms. 

"  Fear  not,"  he  said ;  "  have  confidence  in  God. 

What  he  decrees  must  always  come  to  pass. 

If  I'm  destroyed,  then  follow  me  in  death. 

I  only  ask  one  thing  of  thee,  my  love.  -  ,'.. 

When  I  am  dead,  I  pray  thee  weep  for  me, 

And  let  thy  mantle  be  my  winding-sheet. 

Now  let  thy  glances  follow  as  I  go." 

I'll  tell  of  Ifrid  now — the  spirit-king. 
He  lurked  beneath  the  palace.    When  he  heard 
The  princess  talking  with  the  prince  his  ire 
Arose  like  burning  flame.    His  cry  was  like 
A  thunder-burst.     The  very  palace  shook. 
"  Depart  from  here,"  unto  the  prince  he  roared, 
"  And  feel  my  mighty  power."     Then  sweet  love-songs 
Exchanging  with  the  princess  went  he  forth. 
His  mien  was  like  Sang  Samba's,  and  his  face 
Was  nobly  firm,  as  if  he  went  to  meet 
A  roaring  tiger.    At  his  side  he  wore 
A  rare  carbuncled  sword,  and  arrows  bore 
With  points  in  deadly  poison  dipped.    Ifrid, 
The  creature  with  two  heads,  like  spectre  came 
With  laughter  horrid.    He  took  up  a  stone 
And  hurled  it  at  the  prince,  who  dodged  its  flight. 
Then  full  of  wrath  Ifrid  upon  him  rushed. 
6 


82  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

But  swift  the  prince  let  fly  an  arrow  sharp, 
And  pierced  his  heart.    One  groan,  and  then  he  fell, 
And  died  beside  the  river.    Then  the  prince 
Made  haste  to  join  the  princess. 

When  she  saw 

The  spirit  Ifrid  dead  she  much  rejoiced 
And  bowed  before  the  prince.    Great  gladness  shone 
In  her  fair  face,  because  her  woe  had  ceased, 
And  she  was  happy  that  'twas  to  the  prince 
She  owed  her  rescue.    Twas  as  if  she'd  found 
A  mountain  great  of  jewels.    Then  she  said : 
"  Caliph  a  high  divinity  once  was 
And  called  himself  King  Lila.    God  will  bless 
Thee  for  thy  deeds,  O  mighty  prince." 

The  prince 

With  kisses  said :   "  Thou  hast  a  charming  mouth. 
Thy  form  is  supple.    Prithee  tell  me  why 
I  should  not  love  thee  ?    Thou  art  beautiful 
As  a  statue  of  pure  gold,  and  thou  shalt  be 
A  princess  in  my  palace.    Well  I  know 
Thine  origin  is  noble,  and  thy  race 
Is  high."    They  gayly  chatted  while  some  food 
Was  served.    The  prince,  with  pleasure,  at  the  side 
Of  the  fair  princess  ate.    When  all  was  done 
He  took  some  siri  from  the  betel-box 
And  perfumes  used.    "  Thou  art  a  jasmine  sweet," 
He  said,  "  an  antidote  to  every  ill, 
And  thou  shalt  be  my  wife." 

Next  day  the  prince 

Took  her  behind  him  on  his  horse,  and  they 
Departed.    The  dyangs  accompanied  them. 

Now  will  I  tell  about  the  mantris  all. 

Until  the  fall  of  evening,  with  the  King 

Of  Indrapura,  they  in  waiting  stayed, 

To  welcome  back  the  prince.    And  much  disturbed 

They  were  that  he  delayed  so  long  to  come. 

The  King  then  bade  them  seek  the  prince,  and  see 

Why  he  remained  so  long  apart  from  them. 

Then  mantris  four  set  out,  and  hunted  far 


BIDASARI  83 

And  wide,  but  found  him  not.    They  brought  the  news 
That  he  could  not  be  found.    The  King  was  sad 
And  ordered  them  to  go  and  tell  the  King, 
His  wife's  dear  father,  that  the  prince  was  lost. 
The  old  King  fainted  when  he  heard  the  tale. 
With  oil  of  rose  they  sprinkled  him,  and  back 
Unto  his  senses  came  he.    "  O  my  child," 
He  said,  "  my  heart  hath  lost  all  hope.    Where  now 
Art  thou?    I'll  go,  myself,  to  seek." 

The  King 

Wept  much,  and  his  dear  wife.    And  as  for  her — 
Sweet  Bidasari — she  appeared  to  wish 
To  kill  herself,  for  never  on  the  earth 
Did  brother  love  his  sister  like  the  prince 
And  Bidasari.    At  the  fall  of  day 
Back  came  the  King  of  Indrapura,  sad 
And  weeping.    Then  the  King  of  Kembajat 
Said :  "  O  my  son,  be  silent.    Do  not  weep, 
For  thou  dost  but  increase  the  pain  I  feel." 
But  Indrapura's  King  replied :  "  Alas  ! 
He  was  my  brother  true,  so  brave  and  good ! " 
But  while  they  were  lamenting  thus  the  prince 
Stood  there  before  them  with  his  consort  fair. 
He  bowed  to  all.    The  King,  his  father,  saw 
And  could  not  speak.    He  thought,  "  It  is  the  voice 
Of  my  dear  son."    Then  recognition  came 
And  he  was  wild  with  joy.    The  prince  then  told 
How  he  had  chased  the  tiger,  and  had  lost 
His  way  within  a  wood :  how  he  had  killed 
A  spirit  there,  Ifrid,  the  dread. 

The  King 

Heard  all  he  said  and  much  rejoiced.    Then  came 
The  servants  serving  tasteful  food  to  all. 
The  King  ate  with  his  wife  and  children  dear. 
Together  they  were  six.    All  sorts  of  rare 
And  dainty  food  were  served  them,  and  the  King 
Took  siri  from  the  betel-box,  and  used 
Sweet  perfumes.    The  great  King  of  Kembajat 
Then  gave  a  festival  which  lasted  quite 
Seven  days,  with  music  and  diversions  gay. 


84  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

Glad  joy  was  at  its  height,  of  pleasure  born 

And  of  the  dance.    The  kings  amused  themselves. 

All  kinds  of  games  they  had.    Intji  Bibi, 

A  singer  of  Malacca,  sang  with  grace. 

The  seven  days  passed,  the  Princess  Mendoudari 

Was  all  in  finery  arrayed.    The  wives 

Of  the  two  kings  took  her  in  hand.    The  prince 

Was  by  the  mangkouboumi  ta'en  in  charge. 

The  princess  sweetest  perfumes  did  exhale. 

Her  manners  were  most  gracious  and  polite 

As  of  a  well-born  person.    Every  sort 

Of  gem  and  jewel  sparkled  from  her  robes. 

She  wore  a  ring — 'twas  astokouna  called — 

And  yet  another  one,  glangkano  named, 

And  still  another,  with  bright  stones  all  carved 

In  fashion  of  Ceylon.     Her  tresses  curled 

Like  to  a  full-blown  flower,  and  on  them  shone 

Full  many  precious  stones.    The  tourie  buds 

Became  her  well.    Her  features  were  as  bright 

As  those  of  some  celestial  being  pure. 

Fair  Mendoudari  thus  was  clad,  and  led 

To  the  bride's  seat,  and  at  her  either  hand 

Stood  mantris'  daughters  seven  with  waving  fans. 

Meanwhile  the  mangkouboumi  patiently 

Achieved  the  tiring  of  the  prince.    He  wore 

A  royal  crown,  made  in  the  island  fair 

Called  Nousa  Antara,  and  a  rich  coat 

Which  opened  at  the  sides,  made  in  the  West. 

A  chiselled  necklace  hung  about  his  neck. 

His  tunic  flamed  with  orange,  like  the  robe 

Of  great  Schahid  Schah  Pri.    His  girdle  bright 

Was  cloth  of  tjindi,  fringed  with  agates  rare. 

An  amulet  he  wore  with  diamond  pure, 

With  sacred  words  engraved  of  the  Koran. 

He  wore  a  jewel  like  a  butterfly, 

Most  beautiful,  and  many  rings  and  gems. 

His  features  of  the  rarest  beauty  were, 

Like  those  of  some  divinity  of  heaven. 

When  thus  arrayed,  the  youthful  prince  came  forth 

And  made  obeisance  to  his  parents  both. 


BIDASARI  85 

He  went  to  the  appointed  place,  and  all 

The  children  of  the  court  assembled  there 

Before  him,  while  two  sons  of  heralds  stood 

Beside  him,  waving  fans  like  floating  clouds. 

All  kept  the  strictest  silence.    Then  a  band 

Of  soldiers  came,  with  blades  all  glittering. 

The  royal  sword,  all  diamond  decked,  flashed  rays 

Of  light.    Three  times  around  the  island  went 

They  all,  with  sound  of  music  and  the  noise 

Of  bells.    And  all  who  heard  in  vain  essayed 

To  estimate  the  number.    Everyone 

Ran  forth  to  see  the  progress — men  and  women. 

Some  tore  their  garments,  some  their  children  lost, 

Distracted  by  the  pleasure  and  the  noise. 

When  ended  the  procession,  the  young  prince 

At  Princess  Mendoudari's  right  was  placed, 

Within  the  palace.    Then  to  them  was  brought 

Rice  called  adapadap,  and  they  became 

A  wedded  pair.    And  all  the  folk  dispersed. 

In  three  days'  time  was  Mendoudari  dressed 

Anew  by  Bidasari.    She  was  robed 

With  vesture  of  embroidered  silk.    The  prince 

Was  likewise  gayly  clad,  to  suit  the  glad 

Occasion.    Now  again  they  made,  in  state, 

A  royal  progress  round  about  the  isle. 

The  King  and  Bidasari  rode  in  one 

Grand  chariot,  and,  within  another,  went 

The  prince  and  Mendoudari,  his  fair  bride. 

Then  back  they  came  for  rest,  upon  the  soft 

Rich  palace  cushions.    Then  the  mighty  King 

Of  Kembajat  inquired  of  his  dear  wife : 

"  What  think'st  thou,  love  ?    Shall  we  to-morrow  morn 

Return  ?  "    With  smiles  the  Queen  replied,  "  I  bear 

Thine  orders  on  my  head."    Next  day  the  hearts 

Of  all  the  royal  company  were  filled 

With  joy.    The  officers  assembled  then 

To  take  the  King's  commands,  and  he  was  pleased 

To  see  them  dutiful.    The  following  morn 

The  song  of  the  bajans  awaked  the  King. 

At  early  dawn  each  princess  with  her  lord, 


86  MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

And  all  the  officers,  embarked  upon 

The  ship.    They  sailed  far  from  the  island  fair, 

Nousa  Antara,  and  in  three  days  came 

To  Indrapura  and  the  river's  mouth. 

When  at  the  palace  they  arrived  again, 

The  mantris  came  in  joy  and  kissed  their  hands. 

The  King  of  Kembajat  said  that  he  wished 

To  go.    Scarce  had  fair  Indrapura's  King 

Heard  that  his  parents  to  their  home  desired 

At  once  to  go,  when  he  the  mantris  called 

And  orders  gave.    The  King  of  Kembajat 

Set  out  with  his  dear  wife  next  day  at  dawn. 

Within  the  palace  of  their  daughter  sweet 

They  met  fair  Indrapura's  King.    The  King 

Of  Kembajat  sat  at  his  side,  and  said 

In  softest  tones:  "Well,  Bidasari,  child, 

Thy  parents  now  will  homeward  fare.    Obey 

The  King,  thy  gracious  husband,  in  all  things. 

The  former  merchant  brought  thee  up.    He  will 

A  father  be  to  thee.    Strive  hard  to  win 

Thy  husband's  heart,  and  never  disregard 

His  wishes."    Scarcely  had  she  heard  these  words 

Than  at  her  father's  knees  she  fell,  and  shed 

A  flood  of  tears.    The  King  embraced  his  child 

And,  weeping,  said :  "  My  daughter  dear,  pure  gold, 

My  crown's  chief  gem,  light  of  my  very  eyes, 

Branch  of  my  heart,  be  not  disturbed,  my  soul, 

Nor  let  thy  heart  be  sad."    The  royal  four 

All  wept  together.    Then  the  father  said: 

"  My  son,  accomplished  prince,  we  trust  to  thee 

Our  Bidasari.    Show  her  the  right  path 

If  she  aside  should  step,  for  hither  she 

As  prisoner  came.    Correction  should  she  need, 

For  us  it  will  not  be  a  shame."    At  this 

Fair  Indrapura's  King  was  greatly  moved. 

He  bowed  and  said :  "  My  father,  speak  not  thus. 

I  have  the  best  opinion  of  the  girl. 

Our  hearts  are  one,  as  body  with  the  soul. 

This  kingdom  all  is  hers,  the  guardian  I 

Of  her  possessions,  and  I'll  satisfy 


BIDASARI  87 

Her  every  wish."    The  King  with  joy  replied: 

"  Well,  daughter,  jewel  of  my  crown,  thou  art 

No  more  beneath  my  sway,  but  wholly  now 

Under  the  orders  of  thy  husband  dear." 

He  much  was  moved,  and  to  the  mangkouboumi 

Said,  "  Brother,  take  my  treasures  all,  for  we 

Can  never  all  thy  goodness  recompense." 

The  former  merchant  and  his  wife  bowed  low: 

"  Your  gratitude,  O  prince,  is  great,  but  all 

Thy  treasures  are  thy  royal  daughter's  meed. 

For  her  we'll  guard  them."    But  the  King  replied: 

"  Nay,  speak  not  thus,  my  brother.    Should  I  give 

All  Indrapura's  weight  in  purest  gold 

It  would  not  pay  thee  for  thy  care  and  love. 

We  are  to  thee  devoted  from  our  hearts." 

At  dawn  they  breakfasted,  but  all  were  sad, 

Because  from  Bidasari  now  must  part 

Her  parents  dear  and  brother.    Much  she  wept 

Because  she  felt  her  heart  go  out  to  him 

Her  brother.    Then  she  said :  "  I've  one  to  take 

The  place  of  parents,  but  where  shall  I  find 

A  brother  ?  "    Princess  Mendoudari  bowed 

To  Bidasari,  and  they  kissed  with  tears. 

Fair  Bidasari  said :  "  My  sister  dear, 

Sweet  Mendoudari,  when  wilt  thou  return? 

Stay  not  too  long  at  Kembajat,  for  I 

Could  not  thine  absence  bear.    Farewell,  my  love." 

The  King  embraced  his  daughter.    Bitterly 

Both  wept.    The  royal  father  said,  "  Stay  here, 

My  son-in-law,  with  thy  dear  wife."    The  King 

Before  his  parents  bowed.    The  youthful  prince 

Before  the  King  his  brother  bowed,  and  went 

To  Bidasari's  side,  his  sister  dear, 

With  heavy  heart.    Then,  weeping  much,  he  said : 

"  O  sister  mine,  gem  of  my  crown,  be  not 

So  sorrowful.    I  go,  but  if  thou  dost 

Desire,  I'll  come  each  year  to  visit  thee." 

Sweet  Bidasari  kissed  him.    But  her  grief 

Was  inexpressible.    "  O  brother  dear, 

Illustrious  prince,"  she  said,  "  thine  absence  would 


88  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

E'en  then  be  much  too  long."    The  prince  replied, 
With  bows:  "  Assuage  thy  grief,  my  sister  dear.. 
For  if  the  King  permits,  perhaps  I  may 
Come  sooner  back  to  thee." 

The  mighty  King 

Of  Indrapura  said,  in  friendly  tones: 
"  Although  he  be  thy  brother,  still,  my  dear, 
I  love  him  much.    We  ne'er  have  had  the  least 
Misunderstanding.    Why  art  thou  not  gay  ? 
And  why  art  thou  not  willing  he  should  go? 
If  'twere  not  for  thy  father  I  would  keep 
Him  here." 

The  King  departed,  followed  by 
His  son,  who  took  his  father  just  beyond 
The  gates.    The  mangkouboumi  bowed  his  head 
Before  the  King,  who  with  much  ardor  said, 
"  O  father  of  dear  Bidasari,  give 
Aid  and  protection  to  thy  lovely  child." 
The  mangkouboumi  bowed  again,  and  said : 
"  Whate'er  is  fit,  I'll  do.    Upon  my  head 
I  bear  thine  orders.    I  thy  servant  am." 
The  prince  embraced  the  former  merchant  too, 
And  said,  "  O  uncle  dear,  my  sister  guide, 
And  counsel  her  if  any  fault  she  doth." 
Then  said  the  King  of  Kembajat,  "  My  son, 
Come,  let  us  start  at  once." 

So  forth  he  fared. 

The  prince  and  all  the  escort  with  him  went. 
A  few  days  passed  and  they  were  home  again. 
New  garments  to  the  escort  all  were  given, 
And  many  presents  to  the  officers. 
By  mantris  four  the  King  rich  treasures  sent 
Unto  his  children  loved,  with  many  steeds 
And  elephants.    When  safely  they  arrived 
At  Indrapura,  they  appeared  before 
The  mangkouboumi.    He  presented  them 
Unto  the  King,  and  said :  "  O  sire,  these  gifts 
Are  from  thy  son."    The  King  replied :  "  Why  dost 
Thou  bring  them  here,  my  uncle  ?    Keep  them  all 
In  thine  own  treasury."    Then  he  retired 


BIDASARI  89 

Within  and  said  to  Bidasari  sweet : 
"  Thy  father,  dear,  hath  sent  us  presents  rare, 
And  four  young  mantris,  and  a  thousand  men 
With  elephants  and  horses.    All  is  thine." 
The  fair  young  Queen  with  smiles  to  him  replied : 
"  All  that  with  me  to  share  thou  dost  desire. 
Whatever  be  thy  wish,  I  wish  it  too." 
The  King  adored  his  wife,  and  was  to  her 
Devoted.    His  great  happiness  increased 
And  his  domains  extended  every  year. 
When  Bidasari's  royal  birth  was  known, 
The  news  spread  far  and  wide,  and  everywhere 
Was  told.    The  realm  of  Indrapura  grew 
More  populous  and  powerful  year  by  year. 

The  wicked  Princess  Lila  Sari  lived 
Alone  and  desolate,  in  sadness  deep 
And  full  repentance  for  her  evil  deeds. 

This  song  is  weak  because  my  skill  is  small. 
My  heart  was  deeply  stirred.    And  that  is  why 
I  made,  poor  fakir  I,  this  poem  here. 
I  have  not  made  it  long,  because  too  sad 
I  was,  and  troubled.     Now  at  last  'tis  done. 
For  this,  at  least,  your  blessings  I  deserve. 

THE   END. 


SEDJARET    MALAYOU 

LEGENDS  OF  THE  MALAY  ARCHIPELAGO 

[  Translated  by  M.  Devic  and  Chauncey  C.  Starkweather  ] 


SEDJARET   MALAYOU 

ONCE  upon  a  time  lived  King  Iskender,  son  of  King 
Darab.  He  traced  his  origin  to  Roum;  Macedonia 
was  his  native  country,  and  Dhoul-Garnein  his  sur- 
name. Now  it  happened  that  this  prince  set  out  upon  his 
travels  to  find  the  place  where  the  sun  rose;  and  he  arrived  at 
the  frontier  of  India.  There  reigned  in  this  country  a  very 
powerful  king,  to  whom  half  of  India  was  in  subjection;  and 
his  name  was  King  Kida  Hindi.  As  soon  as  King  Kida  Hindi 
heard  of  King  Iskender's  approach,  he  gave  orders  to  his 
prime  minister,  who  gathered  together  the  armies  and  princes 
who  were  subject  to  him.  When  all  were  met  together,  he 
marched  forth  to  meet  King  Iskender.  The  two  armies  en- 
gaged and  the  conflict  was  carried  on  with  extreme  activity 
on  both  sides,  as  is  related  in  the  history  of  King  Iskender. 
Kida  Hindi  was  defeated  and  taken  alive.  Iskender  ordered 
him  to  embrace  the  true  faith,  and  Kida  Hindi  embraced  the 
faith  and  became  enrolled  in  the  religion  of  the  prophet  Abra- 
ham, the  friend  of  God,  to  whom  be  the  glory!  Then  King 
Iskender  caused  him  to  be  clothed  in  a  garment  like  his  own, 
and  bade  him  return  to  his  own  country. 

King  Kida  Hindi  was  the  father  of  a  very  beautiful  girl, 
whose  equal  was  not  to  be  found  in  her  day.  Her  face  had  the 
dazzling  lustre  of  the  sun  or  the  moon ;  she  was  modest  and  dis- 
creet. Her  name  was  Chehr-el-Beria.  King  Kida  Hindi  took 
his  prime  minister  aside  and  said  to  him: 

"  I  have  summoned  you  to  ask  your  advice  on  the  subject 
of  my  daughter,  whose  equal  in  these  days  cannot  be  found. 
I  have  formed  the  project  of  presenting  her  to  King  Iskender." 

The  minister  answered :  "  Your  Majesty  has  made  a  wise 
decision." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  the  King,  "  to-morrow,  God  willing, 
you  shall  go  and  find  the  prophet  Khidar  and  relate  to  him  the 
whole  matter." 

93 


94  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

Next  day  accordingly  the  minister  set  out  to  find  the  prophet 
Khidar.  After  his  departure  King  Kida  Hindi  commanded 
that  the  name  of  King  Iskender  should  be  inscribed  on  the  coins 
and  standards  of  his  realm.  When  the  minister  approached 
the  prophet  Khidar  he  made  a  salaam  to  him,  which  the  prophet 
returned  and  asked  him  to  be  seated.  Then  the  minister  spoke 
as  follows: 

"  You  must  know,  O  prophet  of  God,  that  my  King  enter- 
tains for  King  Iskender  an  affection  so  fervent  that  I  cannot 
describe  it.  He  is  the  father  of  a  girl  who  has  no  equal  among 
the  children  of  this  world's  monarchs  from  the  rising  to  the  set- 
ting sun.  She  is  without  a  rival  in  face,  wit,  and  good- 
ness of  disposition.  Now  the  desire  of  the  King  is  to  present 
the  princess  before  King  Iskender,  with  the  view  of  ultimately 
giving  her  to  him  for  his  wife." 

Now  the  soldiers  of  King  Souran  laid  siege  against  the 
walled  town  of  Gangga-Chah  Djouhan ;  but  those  on  guard  re- 
pulsed them,  so  that  they  could  not  get  near.  Seeing  this, 
King  Souran  advanced,  mounted  on  an  untamed  elephant. 
Taking  no  heed  to  the  arrows  that  were  launched  against  him 
by  the  defenders  of  the  wall,  he  reached  the  gate  and  struck 
it  with  his  mace.  The  gate  gave  way  and  King  Souran  entered, 
followed  by  his  warriors. 

When  King  Gangga-Chah  Djouhan  saw  King  Souran  ap- 
proaching, he  seized  his  bow  and  shot  an  arrow  with  haste. 
The  arrow  struck  the  forehead  of  King  Souran's  elephant.  The 
elephant  fell  on  his  knees.  King  Souran  quickly  leaped  to  the 
ground,  drawing  his  sword  as  he  did  so;  at  a  single  stroke  he 
struck  through  the  neck  of  King  Gangga-Chah,  and  the  severed 
head  rolled  to  the  ground.  The  forces  of  Gangga-Nagara,  as 
soon  as  they  saw  their  prince  fall,  demanded  the  aman  (i.e., 
truce). 

King  Gangga-Chah  Djouhan  had  a  sister,  named  Princess 
Zaras  Gangga.  She  was  exceedingly  beautiful.  The  victori- 
ous prince  took  her  for  his  wife.  Then  he  resumed  his  march. 

Some  time  afterward  he  reached  the  city  of  Ganggayon.  It 
was  formerly  a  great  city,  the  black  stones  of  whose  fortress 
survive  even  to  this  day.  This  fortress  is  at  the  extremity  of 
the  river  Djoher.  The  name  Ganggayon  in  the  Siamese  tongue 
means  "treasury  of  emeralds."  The  King  of  the  city  was 


SEDJARET  MALAYOU  95 

Rajah  Tchoulin;  he  was  a  powerful  prince,  to  whom  all  the 
kings  of  the  land  did  obeisance. 

On  the  news  of  King  Souran's  approach,  King  Tchoulin 
called  together  all  his  troops  and  sent  word  to  the  kings  who 
were  his  tributaries.  When  all  were  assembled  he  set  out  to 
repel  the  invaders.  The  multitude  of  his  soldiers  was  like  the 
waves  of  the  sea ;  his  elephants  and  horses  stood  up  among  them 
like  islands;  his  flags  and  standards  presented  the  appearance 
of  a  forest,  and  the  cows'  tails  fluttering  at  the  pike-heads  pre- 
sented the  appearance  of  lalang  ploughers. 

The  army  came  in  four  bodies  and  reached  the  banks  of  a 
river.  There  they  saw  the  soldiers  of  King  Souran,  ranged 
like  forest-trees.  The  Siamese  exclaimed,  "  Pangkal,"  a  word 
which  means  "  river,"  and  hence  that  river  became  known  as 
the  river  Pangkal. 

The  soldiers  of  Siam  at  once  joined  battle  with  the  soldiers 
of  Kling,  who  were  Hindoos;  and  the  battle  raged  with  inde- 
scribable confusion.  The  soldiers  mounted  on  elephants  pressed 
forward  these  great  beasts;  the  men  on  horseback  made  their 
horses  champ  with  fury;  the  lancers  pressed  home  their  lances; 
those  who  carried  pikes  plied  them  furiously;  and  those  who 
bore  sabres  dealt  many  a  doughty  stroke.  Blood  flowed  like 
rain.  The  crash  of  thunder  would  have  been  drowned  by  the 
shouts  of  the  warriors  and  the  clash  of  arms.  The  dust  that 
rose  from  the  plain  obscured  the  brightness  of  the  day  like  an 
eclipse  of  the  sun.  So  complete  was  the  confusion  with  which 
the  contestants  mingled  that  it  was  not  possible  to  distinguish 
the  combatants  of  either  side:  each  assailant  was  at  the  same 
time  the  assailed,  and  he  who  struck  with  his  weapon  himself 
at  the  same  moment  was  stricken  with  a  blow.  Sometimes  the 
soldiers  attacked  a  comrade  by  mistake.  Every  moment 
crowds  of  people  on  either  side  were  killed  and  wounded,  many 
horses  and  elephants  had  their  throats  cut,  and  the  blood  shed 
covered  the  ground.  The  dust  had  disappeared;  the  comba- 
tants were  seen  struggling  in  masses  so  compact  that  neither 
party  was  able  to  retire  from  the  battle. 

King  Tchoulin  managed  to  force  a  way  by  means  of  the  ele- 
phant he  rode  through  the  innumerable  horde  of  King  Souran's 
soldiers;  the  corpses  were  piled  up  beneath  his  feet.  A  crowd 
of  Hindoo  warriors  lost  their  lives.  The  rest  of  them  began 


96  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

to  give  way.  King  Souran,  on  perceiving  this,  dashed  forward 
to  meet  King  Tchoulin  in  single  combat.  He  mounted  an  un- 
tamed elephant  eight  cubits  high  that  had  no  driver.  But  the 
elephant  of  King  Tchoulin  was  also  very  brave.  The  two  ani- 
mals met;  they  attacked  each  other;  the  clash  of  their  encounter 
was  like  the  thunder  that  rends  the  earth;  their  tusks  clashing 
and  intertwining  made  a  sound  like  that  of  a  storm  that  never 
ceases.  Neither  could  triumph  over  the  other. 

Then  King  Tchoulin  raised  himself  upon  the  beast  he  rode 
and  brandished  a  javelin.  He  hurled  it  against  King  Souran; 
the  javelin  struck  the  elephant  on  his  flank  and  pierced  deep. 
At  the  same  time  King  Souran  shot  an  arrow  which  smote 
King  Tchoulin  in  the  breast  and  came  out  at  his  back.  That 
prince  fell  to  the  earth  and  expired.  The  soldiers  seeing  their 
king  dead,  broke  ranks  and  took  flight  in  utter  disorder,  pur- 
sued by  the  Hindoos,  who  put  to  the  sword  all  they  overtook. 
Penetrating  the  ramparts  of  Ganggayon  the  Hindoo  soldiers 
pillaged  the  town;  the  booty  was  immense. 

King  Tchoulin  had  a  daughter,  extremely  beautiful.  Her 
name  was  the  princess  Ouangkion ;  she  was  presented  to  King 

Souran,  who  took  her  for  his  wife. 

The  King  then  resumed  his  march  and  arrived  at  Temasik. 
The  rumor  of  his  approach  soon  reached  China.  People  said, 
"  Lo!  King  Souran  comes  with  a  countless  army  to  conquer 
China.  He  has  already  reached  Temasik."  This  news  was 
heard  with  dire  alarm  by  the  King  of  China.  He  said  to  his 
ministers  and  to  his  officers: 

"  What  must  be  done  to  repel  this  invading  multitude?  If 
the  King  of  Kling  arrives  here,  he  will  doubtless  ruin  our  coun- 
try." 

The  prime  minister  said:  "  O  King  of  the  world;  I  have  a 
device  for  repelling  him." 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  King;  "  do  not  fail  to  try  it." 

The  prime  minister  therefore  caused  a  pilo,  or  ship,  to  be  fit- 
ted out  with  rusty  needles.  They  took  also  two  kinds  of  trees, 
kamses  and  jujube  trees,  laden  with  fruit;  these  were  placed 
on  board  ship  with  the  soil  in  which  they  grew.  Old  men  who 
had  lost  their  teeth  were  chosen  for  passengers  and  crew.  To 
these  the  minister  gave  his  instructions  and  they  started  for 
Temasik. 


SEDJARET  MALAYOU  97 

When  they  had  reached  this  place  King  Souran  was  informed 
that  a  ship  had  arrived  from  China.  "  Go  and  ask  these  stran- 
gers," he  said  to  his  attendants,  "  at  what  distance  does  this 
country  lie  from  us."  The  attendant  put  this  question  to  the 
crew  of  the  pilo  and  received  the  following  reply: 

"  When  we  left  China  we  were  all  still  young,  being  scarcely 
twelve  years  old;  and  these  trees  were  seeds  which  we  had 
sown.  But  you  see  how  old  we  are  now,  and  how  our  teeth 
are  fallen  out;  the  grains  of  seed  have  become  trees  in  fruit, 
and  all  this  has  happened  during  the  time  it  has  taken  us  to 
reach  here." 

At  the  same  time  they  took  the  needles  of  which  they  had 
a  large  quantity  and  said  as  they  showed  them  to  the  Hindoos : 

"  When  we  started  from  China,  these  were  as  thick  as  a 
man's  arm,  and  now  see  how  they  are  worn  out  by  the  rust. 
This  will  give  you  an  idea  of  the  length  of  the  voyage:  we 
could  not  keep  count  of  the  years  and  the  months." 

On  hearing  this  answer  of  the  Chinese,  the  Hindoos  ran  to 
report  it  to  King  Souran,  to  whom  they  repeated  all  they  had 
heard. 

"  If  the  thing  is  as  they  say,"  replied  the  prince,  "  the  land 
of  China  is  still  a  very  long  way  off.  When  shall  we  arrive 
there?  We  had  better  return  home." 

"  His  Majesty  is  undoubtedly  right,"  said  the  officers. 

King  Souran  meditated  thus:  "  Behold,  the  contents  of  the 
land  is  known  to  me,  but  how  can  I  learn  the  contents  of  the 
sea?  I  must  needs  enter  the  sea,  in  order  to  know  it." 

Then  he  summoned  his  engineers  and  skilful  men,  and 
ordered  them  to  fashion  a  box  of  glass  with  lock  and  fastenings 
within,  in  order  that  he  might  shut  himself  in  it.  The  engi- 
neers made  the  box  of  glass  just  as  the  King  desired  it;  they 
furnished  it  with  a  chain  of  the  purest  gold ;  then  they  presented 
it  to  King  Souran,  who  was  exceedingly  well  pleased  with  it, 
and  rewarded  them  all  with  rich  presents. 

The  prince  entered  into  the  box,  disappeared  from  the  eyes 
of  all  present,  and  shut  the  door  upon  himself.  They  took  the 
box  to  the  sea,  and  let  it  descend  even  to  the  bottom.  What 
treasures,  what  wealth,  works  of  the  Almighty,  were  seen  by 
King  Souran !  The  box  fell  until  it  reached  a  land  called  Dika. 
There  King  Souran  came  out  of  the  box,  and  went  forward, 
7 


98  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

seeing  most  wonderful  things.  He  arrived  at  a  great  and 
strongly  fortified  town,  which  he  entered  and  saw  a  vast  popu- 
lation, whose  number  God  alone  knows.  This  people,  who  call 
themselves  the  Badsam  people,  were  composed  of  believers  and 
unbelievers. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  town  were  astonished  to  see  the  face 
of  King  Souran,  and  his  garments  they  looked  upon  with  as- 
tonishment. They  conducted  him  to  the  presence  of  their 
King,  whom  they  call  Agtab-al-Ard  (i.e.,  Bowels  of  the  Earth). 
This  prince  asked,  "  What  man  is  this?  " 

"  My  lord,"  was  the  reply,  "  it  is  a  stranger,  who  arrived  a 
moment  ago." 

"  Whence  does  he  come?  " 

"  We  do  not  know." 

Then  the  King  addressed  King  Souran  himself  and  said, 
"  Who  are  you,  and  whence  do  you  come  ?  " 

King  Souran  replied:  "  I  come  from  the  world;  I  am  the 
king  of  men;  my  name  is  King  Souran." 

King  Agtaf>al-Ard  was  very  much  astonished  on  hearing 
these  words.  "  There  is,  then,"  he  said,  "  another  world  beside 
ours?" 

"  The  world,"  replied  King  Souran,  "  contains  many  races." 

"  Glory  to  God  almighty,"  said  the  King,  full  of  surprise. 
Then  he  made  King  Souran  ascend  and  sit  with  him  on  the 
royal  throne. 

Agtab-al-Ard  had  a  daughter,  of  great  beauty,  named  Prin- 
cess Mah-tab-al-Bahri  ("  Moon  of  the  Sea  ").  He  gave  her  in 
marriage  to  King  Souran.  That  prince  dwelt  three  years  with 
her  and  had  three  male  children  by  her.  When  he  thought 
about  these  three  children  King  Souran  felt  much  troubled. 
He  said  to  himself:  "  What  will  become  of  them,  here,  under 
the  earth?  Or  how  shall  I  withdraw  them  hence?" 

He  went  to  see  Agtab-al-Ard,  and  said  to  him:  "  If  my  sons 
grow  up,  will  your  Majesty  allow  me  to  see  that  they  are 
brought  into  the  upper  world,  in  order  that  the  royal  line  of 
Sultan  Iskender  Dhoul-Quameen  may  not  be  broken  to  the 
end  of  time?  " 

The  King  answered,  "  I  shall  not  hinder  you." 

Then  King  Souran  took  leave  of  the  King  and  prepared  for 
his  return.  The  King  and  his  daughter  shed  many  tears  at 


SEDJARET  MALAYOU  99 

parting.  Then  the  King  gave  orders  to  bring  the  horse  Sem- 
brani,  named  Paras-al-Bahri  ("Sea-horse  "),  which  he  gave  to 
King  Souran.  The  prince  mounted  the  horse,  which  bore  him 
from  the  sea,  and  carried  him  in  the  air  above  the  billows. 

The  troops  of  King  Souran  caught  sight  of  the  horse  Sem- 
brani,  and  recognized  in  its  rider  their  King.  The  prime  min- 
ister at  once  took  a  beautiful  mare  and  led  it  to  the  shore.  The 
sea-horse  saw  the  mare  and  came  to  land  to  meet  her,  and  King 
Souran  descended.  Then  the  horse  Sembrani  went  back  into 
the  sea. 

King  Souran  said  to  his  wise  men  and  engineers:  "Raise 
a  monument  which  shall  witness  to  my  journey  in  the  sea;  for 
I  wish  the  memory  of  it  to  be  preserved  even  to  the  Resurrec- 
tion day.  Write  out  the  story,  so  that  it  may  be  told  to  all  my 
descendants." 

In  obedience  to  the  words  of  the  King  the  wise  men  and  engi- 
neers set  up  a  stone  on  which  they  traced  an  inscription  in 
the  tongue  of  Hindostan.  This  done,  King  Souran  gathered 
a  quantity  of  gold,  silver,  jewels,  gems,  and  precious  treasures, 
which  he  laid  up  under  the  stone. 

"  At  the  end  of  the  centuries,"  he  said,  "  there  will  come  a 
king  among  my  descendants  who  will  find  these  riches.  And 
this  king  will  subdue  every  country  over  which  the  wind 
blows." 

After  this,  King  Souran  returned  to  the  land  of  Kling. 
There  he  built  a  mighty  city,  protected  by  a  wall  of  black  stone 
having  seven  rows  of  masonry  thick  and  nine  fathoms  high; 
the  engineers  made  it  with  such  skill  that  the  joints  of  the 
stones  were  invisible,  and  the  wall  seemed  cast  of  a  single  sub- 
stance. The  gate  was  of  steel,  enriched  with  gold  and  precious 
stones. 

This  rampart  enclosed  seven  hills.  In  the  centre  of  the  city 
extended  a  pool  vast  as  the  sea;  from  one  bank  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  discern  an  elephant  standing  up  on  the  other.  It  con- 
tained very  many  kinds  of  fishes.  In  the  midst  of  it  rose  a  very 
lofty  island,  always  covered  with  a  mantle  of  mist.  The  King 
caused  to  be  planted  there  every  sort  of  flowering  and  fruit- 
bearing  tree  to  be  found  in  the  world.  None  was  lacking,  and 
to  this  island  the  King  would  repair  when  he  wished  for  recre- 
ation. 


loo  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

He  caused  also  to  be  planted  on  the  banks  of  the  pool  a  vast 
forest  wherein  wild  animals  were  at  large.  And  when  the  King 
wished  to  hunt,  or  catch  elephants  in  the  snare,  he  went  to 
this  forest.  When  the  town  was  completed  the  King  called  it 
after  himself,  Souran-Bidgi-Nagara,  and  this  town  still  exists 
in  the  province  of  Kling. 

In  short,  if  one  wished  to  relate  all  the  rest  of  King  Souran's 
history  he  would  find  it  as  long  as  that  of  Sidi  Hanza. 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF  BADANG 

It  is  related  that  there  once  lived  at  Salouang  a  husbandman 
who  owned  a  slave  named  Badang,  whom  he  employed  in  clear- 
ing forest-land.  It  happened  one  day  that  Badang  spread  his 
nets  in  the  river;  but  on  the  following  morning  he  found  his  net 
quite  empty,  and  by  its  side  some  fish-scales  and  fish-bones. 
The  same  thing  took  place  for  some  days  following.  Badang 
flung  the  fish-scales  (sisik)  into  the  river;  from  which  circum- 
stance was  derived  the  river's  name,  Besisik. 

Meanwhile  the  slave  said  to  himself:  "  Who  is  it  who  eats 
the  fish  caught  in  my  net?  I  must  watch  and  find  out." 

With  this  intention  he  hid  one  day  behind  some  trees  and 
saw  a  hantou,  or  evil  genius,  or  monster,  who  was  eating  the 
fish  taken  in  his  net.  This  hantou  had  eyes  red  as  fire,  his  hair 
was  like  woven  osiers,  and  his  beard  fell  down  to  his  waist. 
Badang  drew  his  knife,  and,  screwing  up  his  courage,  rushed 
up  to  the  hantou  and  seized  him. 

"  Every  day,"  he  said,  "  you  eat  up  my  fish.  But  this  time 
you  shall  die  at  my  hands." 

On  hearing  these  words,  the  hantou  was  afraid,  and  slipped 
aside,  wishing  to  avoid  the  hands  of  his  adversary;  but  failing 
to  do  so,  he  said  to  him :  "  Do  not  kill  me ;  I  will  give  you  what 
you  wish,  on  condition  that  you  spare  my  life." 

Badang  thought :  "  If  I  ask  for  riches,  my  master  will  claim 
them.  If  I  ask  the  power  to  become  invisible,  they  will  put 
me  to  death  as  a  sorcerer.  Therefore  it  is  best  for  me  to  ask 
for  the  gift  of  physical  strength,  in  order  that  I  may  do  the  work 
of  my  master." 

In  accordance  with  this  resolution,  Badang  said  to  the 
hantou,  "  Give  me  the  gift  of  physical  strength ;  let  me  be  strong 
enough  to  tear  down  and  to  uproot  the  trees ;  that  is,  that  I  may 


SEDJARET  MALAYOU  101 

tear  down,  with  one  hand,  great  trees,  a  fathom  or  two  in 
girth." 

The  hantou  answered :  "  Your  prayer  is  granted.  You  wish 
for  strength ;  I  will  give  it  to  you ;  but  first  it  is  necessary  that 
you  eat  up  what  I  vomit." 

"Very  well,"  said  Badang;  "vomit,  and  I  will  eat  it  up." 
The  hantou  vomited,  and  Badang  set  to  work  to  eat  it.  He  held 
the  hantou  by  the  beard,  and  would  not  let  him  go.  Then  he 
attempted  the  uprooting  of  great  trees ;  and,  seeing  that  he  tore 
them  up  with  ease,  he  let  go  the  beard  of  the  hantou. 

Afterward,  coming  and  going  through  the  forest,  he  tore 
down  enormous  trees;  he  carried  off,  roots  and  all,  those  of  a 
fathom  or  two  in  girth.  As  for  the  small  ones,  he  tore  them 
up  by  handfuls  and  flung  them  on  all  sides.  In  a  moment 
the  forest  which  had  been  a  wilderness  became  level  as  a  great 
plain. 

When  his  master  saw  this  work  he  said:  "  Who  has  cleared 
our  land?  For  I  see  that  it  is  suddenly  freed  entirely  from  trees 
and  brushwood." 

"  It  is  I,"  said  Badang,  "  who  have  effected  this  clearance." 

Then  answered  the  master:  "How  have  you  been  able  to 
do  this,  single-handed,  so  quickly  and  in  one  job?  " 

Then  Badang  related  all  the  details  of  his  adventure,  and  his 
master  gave  him  his  liberty. 

The  report  of  these  occurrences  reached  Singapore.  King 
Krama  immediately  ordered  that  Badang  be  brought  before 
him,  and  he  called  him  Raden  (i.e.,  Royal  Prince). 

Once  upon  a  time  the  King  of  Singapore  ordered  Badang 
to  fetch  for  his  repast  the  fruit  of  kouras,  at  the  river  Sayang. 
Badang  went  there  alone  in  his  pilang,  or  boat,  which  was  eight 
fathoms  long,  and  he  punted  it  with  a  pole  cut  from  the  trunk 
of  a  kampas-tree  a  fathom  in  girth. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  river  Sayang,  he  clasped  the  kouras- 
tree.  The  branches  broke,  the  tree  fell,  and  his  head  struck 
against  a  huge  rock.  His  head  was  not  injured,  but  the  rock 
was  split  in  two.  This  stone  is  still  seen  to-day  on  the  river 
Sayang,  and  it  bears  the  name  of  Balou-blah,  which  means  the 
"  Riven  Rock."  His  pole  and  boat  have  also  been  preserved 
to  the  present  day.  The  day  following  his  exploit  Badang 
started  back  for  Singapore,  with  his  pilang  completely  laden 


!«2  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

with  sugar-cane,  bananas,  and  keladion,  or  edible  lily,  root.  He 
had  eaten  the  whole  cargo  before  he  arrived  at  Djohor-the-Old. 

On  another  occasion  the  King  of  Singapore  had  caused  a 
large  ship  to  be  built,  fifteen  fathoms  long,  in  front  of  the  palace. 
The  vessel  being  finished,  between  forty  and  fifty  men  were 
ordered  to  push  it  into  the  water.  They  were  unable  to  launch 
it.  As  many  as  2,000  or  3,000  persons  were  equally  unsuccess- 
ful. Then  the  King  ordered  Badang  to  undertake  the  opera- 
tion. Badang  undertook  the  task  unaided,  and  pushed  with 
such  force  that  the  vessel  went  right  across  the  strait  to  the 
other  shore.  For  this  feat  the  King  appointed  him  houlou- 
balong,  or  officer  of  military  rank. 

A  report  reached  the  province  of  Kling  that  among  the  offi- 
cers of  the  King  was  a  man  of  extraordinary  strength,  named 
Badang.  Now  there  was  a  powerful  athlete  at  the  court  of 
the  King  of  Kling,  who  had  no  rival  in  the  country.  His  name 
was  Madia-Bibjaya-Pelkrama.  The  King  ordered  him  to  go 
to  Singapore  with  seven  vessels;  "  Go,"  said  he,  "  and  wrestle 
with  this  officer.  If  he  defeat  you,  give  him  as  a  prize  the 
cargo  of  the  seven  vessels ;  if  you  are  victorious,  demand  of  him 
an  equal  forfeit." 

"  I  obey,  your  Majesty,"  said  the  athlete,  and  started  off  with 
the  seven  vessels. 

When  he  arrived  at  Singapore  they  brought  news  to  the  King 
of  the  city,  saying:  "  An  athlete  has  arrived  from  the  land  of 
Kling  to  compete  with  Badang  in  many  kinds  of  sports.  If  he 
is  defeated,  he  will  leave  the  cargo  of  his  seven  vessels  as  for- 
feit." 

The  King  came  out  of  his  palace  to  give  audience.  The 
Hindoo  athlete  presented  himself.  The  prince  told  him  to  try 
a  bout  with  Badang.  Badang  beat  him  in  every  round. 

Now  facing  the  balerong,  or  court  of  audience,  was  an  enor- 
mous rock.  The  athlete  said  to  Badang:  "  Come,  let  us  match 
our  strength  by  lifting  this  stone.  Whoever  cannot  lift  it  will 
be  conquered." 

"  Do  you  try  first,"  said  Badang. 

The  athlete  commenced,  and  made  many  attempts  without 
succeeding  in  lifting  it.  At  last,  mustering  all  his  strength,  he 
raised  it  to  the  height  of  his  knee  and  let  it  fall  again. 

"  Now  it  is  your  turn,  my  master,"  he  said. 


SEDJARET   MALAYOU  103 

"  Very  good,"  answered  Badang,  and  lifting  the  stone  he 
swung  it  in  the  air,  then  hurled  it  toward  the  river,  at  the  en- 
trance to  the  town,  where  it  is  still  seen  at  the  extremity  of  the 
point  of  Singapore. 

The  athlete  of  Kling,  thus  vanquished,  handed  to  Badang 
the  seven  vessels  and  their  cargoes;  then  he  returned,  very 
much  saddened  and  mortified  by  his  defeat. 

Now  the  report  came  to  the  country  of  Perlak  that  there  was 
at  Singapore  an  officer  of  the  King  named  Badang  without  a. 
rival  in  extraordinary  strength.  The  King  of  Perlak,  so  runs 
the  story,  had  an  athlete  named  Bandarang,  also  very  strong 
and  of  a  great  reputation.  This  athlete  was  before  the  King 
when  they  spoke  of  Badang. 

"  My  lord,"  he  asked,  "  is  Badang  stronger  than  I  am?  If 
you  will  permit  me,  I  will  go  to  Singapore  to  try  an  assault 
with  him." 

"Very  well;  go  to  Singapore,"  said  the  King.  Turning  to 
the  prime  minister,  Toun  Parapatih,  he  said: 

"  Get  ready  a  praho,  for  I  am  going  to  send  Bandarang  to 
Singapore."  When  all  was  ready,  a  royal  litter  was  prepared 
and  the  minister  embarked  with  the  athlete,  and  after  a  while 
reached  Singapore.  Prince  Sri  Rana  Ouira  Krama  received 
the  King's  litter  in  the  audience-chamber,  among  the  radjas, 
ministers,  body-guards,  heralds,  and  other  grand  officers  upon 
his  command. 

Then  the  prince,  addressing  the  ambassador,  asked :  "  With 
what  commission  is  our  brother  charged  ?  " 

The  ambassador  replied:  "  Behold,  I  have  received  the  com- 
mand of  your  illustrious  younger  brother  to  bring  here  this 
subject  Bandarang,  to  try  his  strength  with  Badang.  If  Ban- 
darang is  vanquished,  your  brother  will  place  at  your  Majesty's 
feet  the  contents  of  a  storehouse;  and  if  Badang  succumbs,  you 
shall  offer  us  the  equivalent." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  King;  "  to-morrow  everything  shall 
be  arranged  for  the  struggle."  The  King  retired  to  the  palace, 
summoned  Badang,  and  said  to  him: 

"  You  know,  Badang,  that  to-morrow  you  will  have  to  con- 
tend with  Bandarang." 

"  My  lord,"  answered  Badang,  "  know  that  this  man  is  a 
powerful  athlete,  of  extraordinary  strength,  famous  in  all  coun- 


104  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

tries.  If  your  slave  is  vanquished  will  it  not  cast  some  discredit 
on  the  sovereign?  If  your  Majesty  thinks  it  wise,  let  us  both 
be  called  into  your  presence  together,  so  that  I  may  test  him; 
and  if  I  feel  myself  capable  of  competing  with  him,  we  will  have 
the  contest;  but  if  he  is  too  strong  for  me,  then  your  Majesty 
can  oppose  the  struggle." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  King.  That  is  why,  when  night 
came,  the  prince  invited  Toun  Parapatih  Pendek,  Bandarang, 
and  their  companions.  When  they  arrived  they  were  served 
with  a  collation.  Bandarang  was  seated  beside  Badang,  who 
began  to  test  him.  They  tried  each  other's  strength  without 
attracting  attention. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour,  when  the  guests  were  in  wine,  the 
King  asked  Badang  if  he  were  strong  enough  to  struggle  with 
Bandarang,  who  declared  that  he  was  equal  to  him.  On  the 
other  hand,  when  Toun  Parapatih  Pendek  had  returned  to  the 
ship,  Bandarang  said  to  him: 

"  Lord,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  advise,  there  will  be  no  con- 
test between  Badang  and  me.  I  might  not  conquer,  for  I  have 
learned  how  powerful  he  is." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  minister;  "  it  is  very  easy  to  arrange 
that." 

So  the  minister  said  to  the  King :  "  It  is  my  opinion  that 
we  should  prevent  this  struggle;  for  if  one  of  the  contestants 
should  be  vanquished  in  some  bad  way,  a  quarrel  might  arise 
out  of  it  between  your  Majesty  and  the  sovereign  your  brother." 

The  King  agreed,  and  the  ambassador  asked  leave  to  return 
home.  The  prince  had  a  letter  written  for  the  King  of  Perlak. 
It  was  carried  in  state  on  board  the  ship  and  the  envoy,  after 
receiving  vestments  of  honor,  set  sail  to  his  own  country.  Ar- 
riving, he  told  the  King  all  that  had  taken  place.  Later  Badang 
died  and  was  buried  at  Bourou.  When  the  news  of  his  death 
arrived  at  that  country,  the  King  of  Kling  sent  a  carved  stone, 
which  is  now  seen  at  Bourou. 

And  now  as  to  the  kings  of  Pasey.  The  authors  of  this  story 
declare  that  there  were  two  brothers  named  Marah  who  lived 
near  Pasangan.  They  were  originally  from  the  mountain  of 
Sanggong.  The  elder  was  named  Mara-Tchaga,  and  the 
younger  Marah-Silou.  Marah-Silou  was  engaged  in  casting 
nets.  Having  taken  some  kalang-kalang,  he  rejected  them 


SEDJARET  MALAYOU  105 

and  cast  his  net  anew.  The  kalang-kalang  were  caught  again. 
After  several  attempts  with  the  same  result,  Marah-Silou  had 
these  kalang-kalang  boiled.  And  behold,  the  wretched  things 
became  gold  and  their  froth  became  silver.  Marah-Silou 
caught  more  kalang-kalang,  boiled  them,  and  again  saw  them 
become  gold  and  silver.  He  had  thus  acquired  much  store  of 
gold  and  silver,  when  one  day  the  news  came  to  Marah-Tchaga 
that  his  younger  brother  was  catching  kalang-kalang,  and  he 
was  so  irritated  that  he  wished  to  kill  him.  When  Marah-Silou 
learned  of  this  design,  he  took  refuge  in  the  forest  of  Djawn. 
The  place  where  he  fished  is  still  called  the  Plain  of  Kalang- 
Kalang. 

Marah-Silou,  established  in  the  forest  of  Djawn,  gave  gold 
to  those  who  dwelt  there,  and  they  all  obeyed  his  commands. 
One  day  when  he  was  hunting,  his  dog,  named  Si  Pasey,  began 
to  bark  on  a  slight  hill  which  one  would  have  believed  made 
by  the  hand  of  man.  Climbing  the  small  hill  he  saw  an  ant  as 
big  as  a  cat.  He  took  it  and  ate  it  up.  The  place  was  after- 
ward called  Samodra;  that  is  to  say,  "  The  Big  Ant."  Now  it 
is  said  that  the  prophet  of  God — blessings  be  upon  him ! — once 
told  his  companions: 

"  There  will  be  a  country  some  day,  toward  the  south,  called 
Samoudra.  When  you  hear  it  spoken  of,  hasten  thither  to  con- 
vert the  inhabitants  to  Islam,  for  in  that  country  many  will  be- 
come the  friends  of  God.  But  there  will  also  be  the  king  of  a 
country  called  Mataba,  whom  you  must  take  with  you." 

A  long  time  after  this  decree  of  the  prophet,  the  fakir 
Mahomet  went  to  Samoudra.  Reaching  the  shore,  he  met 
Marah-Silou,  who  was  gathering  shells.  The  fakir  asked 
him: 

"  What  is  the  name  of  this  country?  " 

"  Its  name  is  Samoudra,"  answered  Marah-Silou. 

"And  what  is  the  sovereign's  name?" 

"  I  am  the  sovereign  of  all  who  dwell  here,"  said  Marah- 
Silou. 

The  fakir  Mahomet  converted  Marah-Silou  to  Islam  and 
taught  him  the  words  of  the  creed.  Now  Marah-Silou  being 
asleep  dreamed  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  the  prophet  of 
God,  and  the  prophet  said  to  him,  "  Marah-Silou,  open  your 
mouth."  He  opened  it  and  the  prophet  spat  in  it,  and  Marah- 


io6  MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

Silou,  awaking,  perceived  throughout  his  whole  body  a  per- 
fume like  that  of  spikenard.  When  day  broke  he  told  his 
dream. 

"  This  is  truly  the  country  of  Samoudra  of  which  the  prophet 
of  God  has  spoken,"  said  the  fakir  Mahomet.  Bringing  from 
the  ship  all  the  royal  ensigns  aboard,  he  proclaimed  Marah- 
Silou  king  with  the  title  of  Sultan  Melik-es-Salih. 

Sultan  Melik-es-Salih  sent  Sidi  Ali  Ghaiath-ed-Din  to  the 
country  of  Perlak.  This  prince  had  three  daughters,  two  of 
blood-royal  on  their  mother's  side,  and  one  born  of  a  concubine. 
Tlje  latter  was  called  the  princess  Ganggang.  When  Sidi  Ali 
Ghaiath  arrived  at  Perlak  they  showed  him  the  three  daughters. 
The  two  sisters  of  the  blood-royal  were  seated  lower  than  the 
princess  Ganggang,  who  occupied  a  high  seat.  The  latter,  by 
order  of  her  father,  was  cleaning  arec  nuts  for  her  two  sisters, 
like  one  doing  the  honors  of  the  household.  She  wore  rose- 
colored  garments  and  a  violet  cloak.  Her  ears  were  adorned 
with  soubangs  made  with  the  young  leaves  of  the  lontar.  She 
was  very  beautiful. 

Sidi  Ali  Ghaiath-ed-Din  said  to  the  King  of  Perlak,  "  That 
one  of  your  daughters  who  is  seated  above  is  the  one  I  ask  in 
marriage  for  my  master,  your  son."  The  envoy  knew  not  that 
Princess  Ganggang  was  the  daughter  of  a  concubine. 

The  King  burst  out  laughing.  "  Very  well,"  he  said,  "  let 
the  will  of  my  son  be  accomplished."  Then  he  gave  orders  to 
equip  loo  prahos,  and  Toun  Parapatih  received  the  command 
to  accompany  the  princess  to  the  country  of  Samoudra. 

Sultan  Melik-es-Salih  went  to  meet  the  princess  as  far  as 
Djambou  Ayer.  He  introduced  her  into  Samoudra  with  a 
thousand  honors  and  splendors,  and  married  her.  The  mar- 
riage accomplished,  the  prince  gave  presents  to  the  ministers 
and  to  the  officers,  and  showed  himself  lavish  in  gold  and  silver 
to  the  poor  of  the  country.  As  for  Toun  Parapatih  Pendek, 
he  took  leave  to  return  to  Perlak.  Sultan  Melik-es-Salih  and 
the  princess  Ganggang  had  two  sons  who  received  from  the 
prince  the  names  of  Sultan  Melik-ed-Dhahir  and  Sultan  Melik- 
el-Mansour.  The  elder  was  confided  to  Sidi  Ali  Ghaiath-ed- 
Din  and  the  other  to  Sidi  Ali  Asmai-ed-Din.  Years  passed 
and  the  two  young  princes  had  grown  up.  Perlak  had  been 
conquered  by  an  enemy  come  from  the  opposite  coast,  and  the 


SEDJARET  MALAYOU  107 

inhabitants  of  the  country  had  migrated  to  Samoudra.  Sultan 
Melik-es-Salih  conceived  the  plan  of  founding  a  city  to  estab- 
lish his  sons  there.  He  said  to  the  great  ones,  "  To-morrow 
I  shall  go  hunting."  The  next  morning  he  set  out,  mounted  on 
an  elephant  called  Perma  Diouana.  He  passed  to  the  other 
side  of  the  water.  When  he  came  to  land  his  dog  Si  Pasey  be- 
gan to  bark.  The  prince  ran  up  and  saw  that  he  was  barking 
before  a  hillock,  sufficiently  extended  for  the  erection  of  a  pal- 
ace and  its  dependencies,  level  on  top  and  well  disposed.  Sul- 
tan Melik  had  the  ground  cleared  and  built  a  palace  and  a  city 
there.  After  the  name  of  his  dog  he  called  the  palace  Pasey, 
and  established  as  king  his  son  Sultan  Melik-ed-Dhahir,  with 
Sidi  Ali  Ghaiath  as  minister.  He  divided  his  men,  his  ele- 
phants, and  his  royal  standards  into  two  parts,  one  for  each  of 
his  sons. 

Some  time  after  this,  the  prince,  having  fallen  ill,  commanded 
the  grandees  to  assemble  and  called  his  two  sons  and  spoke  as 
follows:  "Oh,  my  two  sons,  and  you  all,  my  companions,  my 
last  hour  is  approaching.  You  men  be  good  to  those  whom 
I  leave  behind.  And  you,  my  sons,  beware  of  being  envious 
of  another's  good,  and  of  the  wives  and  daughters  of  your  sub- 
jects. Maintain  between  you  the  union  of  two  brothers,  abstain 
from  all  injustice,  and  avoid  between  you  every  cause  of  quar- 
rel." He  said  also  to  Sidi  Ali  Gaiath-ed-Din  and  to  Sidi  Asmai- 
ed-Din : 

"  Oh,  my  brothers,  take  care  of  these  two  sons.  Stir  not  up 
trouble  between  them.  Be  faithful  to  them  and  never  give 
your  allegiance  to  another  king."  The  two  young  princes 
bowed  their  heads  and  wept. 

As  for  the  two  ministers,  "  Lord,"  they  said,  "  light  of  our 
eyes,  we  swear  by  the  sovereign  Master  who  created  the  worlds 
that  we  will  never  break  our  promises,  that  we  will  never  lack 
in  our  fidelity  or  render  homage  to  another  king  than  your  two 
well-beloved  sons." 

Then  Sultan  Melik-es-Salih  named  his  son  Melik-el-Man- 
sour,  King  of  Samoudra.  Three  days  later  he  died  and  was 
buried  in  the  interior  of  the  palace.  Their  father  dead,  the  two 
young  princes,  his  sons,  commanded  the  royal  herald  to  assem- 
ble the  officers  and  soldiers,  elephants  and  horses,  as  well  as  the 
royal  insignia  of  the  country  of  Pasey.  And  the  two  cities  grew 


io8  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

and  flourished  more  and  more.  God  knows  best  the  truth. 
He  is  our  aid  and  our  refuge. 

Now  this  is  the  story  of  the  King  Chehr-en-Naoui.  His 
power  was  great,  his  officers  and  soldiers  innumerable.  They 
told  this  prince  that  the  country  of  Samoudra  had  a  large  popu- 
lation, many  merchants,  and  a  powerful  king.  Chehr-en-Naoui 
said  to  his  officers: 

"  Which  of  you  would  be  able  to  take  the  King  of  Samou- 
dra?" 

One  of  his  officers  very  strong  and  brave,  Aoui  Ditchou, 
bowed  and  said:  "Lord,  if  your  Majesty  will  give  me  4,000 
chosen  warriors,  I  will  take  the  King  of  Samoudra  alive  and 
bring  him  to  the  foot  of  your  Majesty's  throne." 

The  King  gave  him  the  4,000  warriors  and  100  ships.  When 
they  were  ready  Aoui  Ditchou  sailed  toward  Samoudra,  feign- 
ing that  the  ships  were  bent  on  commerce  up  to  the  very  mo- 
ment when  they  reached  the  end  of  the  voyage.  Then  he  caused 
it  to  be  said  that  he  was  an  ambassador  of  the  King  Chehr-en- 
Naoui,  and  the  King  of  Samoudra  sent  some  officers  to  receive 
him. 

Landing,  Aoui  Ditchou  put  into  four  chests  four  lusty  houlou- 
balongs,  to  whom  he  said :  "  Presently,  when  you  are  in  the 
presence  of  the  King  of  Samoudra,  open  the  chests,  leap  out, 
and  seize  the  King."  The  chests  were  fastened  from  within. 
They  took  them  ashore  in  state  as  presents  from  the  King 
Chehr-en-Naoui.  When  they  were  in  the  presence  of  the 
prince,  a  message  couched  in  flattering  terms  was  read,  and 
the  chests  were  brought  in.  Immediately  the  houlou-balongs 
opened  the  chests,  sprang  out,  and  seized  the  sovereign.  The 
soldiers  uttered  fierce  cries  and  unsheathed  their  arms  to  attack 
the  band  of  Chehr-en-Naoui's  men.  But  the  latter  cried: 

"  If  you  fall  upon  us,  we  will  kill  your  King." 

So  the  soldiers  paused  in  their  attack.  Aoui  Ditchou  and 
his  people  returned,  bringing  with  them  the  King  of  Samoudra. 
They  crossed  the  sea  and  regained  their  own  country.  There 
the  prisoner-King  was  conducted  by  Aoui  Ditchou  before  King 
Chehr-en-Naoui,  who  was  very  joyful  and  loaded  the  head  of 
the  expedition  and  all  his  companions  with  honors.  As  for  the 
King  of  Samoudra,  they  made  him  a  poultry-keeper. 

Now  let  us  talk  of  Sidi  AH  Gaiath-ed-Din.     Having  consult- 


SEDJARET  MALAYOU  109 

ed  with  the  principal  ministers  in  the  country  of  Samoudra,  he 
equipped  a  ship  and  purchased  a  cargo  of  Arabic  merchandise, 
for  the  inhabitants  of  Pasey  at  that  time  all  knew  the  Arabic 
language.  Sidi  Ali  and  the  soldiers  whom  he  embarked  on  the 
ship  with  him  took  all  the  ways  and  manners  of  the  Arabs. 
The  minister  being  on  board  and  all  being  made  ready,  they 
set  sail  for  the  country  of  Chehr-en-Naoui,  where  they  arrived 
after  a  short  voyage.  Sidi  Ali  landed  and  went  to  present  him- 
self to  the  King,  bearing  as  a  gift  a  tree  of  gold,  of  which  the 
fruits  were  all  sorts  of  precious  stones,  and  which  was  worth 
an  almost  inconceivable  sum.  When  the  prince  saw  this  pres- 
ent he  asked: 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me?" 

Sidi  Ali  replied,  "  We  want  nothing." 

The  King  was  highly  pleased,  although  surprised  by  such 
a  magnificent  present.  And  he  said  to  himself,  "  Now,  what 
can  be  the  aim  of  these  people  giving  me  all  this?  "  The  pre- 
tended Arabs  returned  to  their  ships.  A  few  days  after,  the 
master  of  the  ship  returned  to  visit  the  King.  This  time  he 
brought  as  a  present  a  chess-board  of  gold  of  which  the  chess- 
men were  of  precious  stones,  which  was  worth  an  enormous 
sum. 

"What  do  you  want  of%me?"  again  asked  the  prince. 
"  Speak,  that  I  may  satisfy  you." 

And  they  replied,  "  We  ask  for  nothing." 

Then  they  returned  to  the  ship.  Some  time  later,  when  the 
favorable  monsoon  blew  for  their  return  homeward,  Sidi  Ali 
Ghaiath  thought  upon  his  departure.  He  went  to  see  the  King, 
laden  with  a  present  which  consisted  of  two  golden  ducks,  male 
and  female,  enriched  with  precious  stones,  and  in  a  big  golden 
basin.  He  filled  this  golden  basin  with  water,  put  in  the  ducks. 
They  began  to  swim,  dive,  and  pursue  each  other,  a  sight  at 
which  the  King  marvelled  much. 

"  I  beg  of  you  to  tell  me,"  he  said,  "  what  you  desire  of  me. 
By  the  God  whom  I  worship,  I  swear  to  fulfil  your  wishes." 

Then  Sidi  Ali  answered :  "  Lord,  if  it  is  the  accomplishment 
of  your  favor,  we  beg  that  you  will  give  us  your  poultry- 
keeper." 

"  It  is  the  King  of  Pasey  that  you  ask  of  me.  But,  very  well, 
I  grant  him  to  you." 


no  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

"  It  is  because  he  is  a  Mussulman,"  said  the  strangers,  "  that 
we  ask  him  of  your  Majesty." 

The  King  Chehr-en-Naoui  delivered  therefore  the  Sultan 
Melik-ed-Dhahir  to  Sidi  Ali  Gaiath-ed-Din,  who  took  him  on 
board  the  ship,  gave  him  a  bath,  and  then  clothed  him  in  royal 
raiment.  The  wind  blew,  they  weighed  anchor,  set  sail,  and 
after  a  certain  time  arrived  at  the  country  of  Samoudra.  And 
God  knows  the  truth.  He  is  our  aid  and  our  refuge. 

Now  we  are  going  to  speak  of  the  King  Melik-el-Mansour 
at  Samoudra.  This  prince  said  one  day  to  Sidi  Ali  Asmai-ed- 
Din: 

"  I  would  like  to  go  and  see  how  my  brother  is  getting 
along." 

The  minister  answered,  "  Do  not  go,  my  lord,  for  fear  of 
misfortune."  And,  indeed,  he  tried  to  restrain  his  master. 
The  prince  would  listen  to  nothing,  and  finally  the  minister  was 
silent.  He  ordered  the  drums  to  beat,  in  order  to  make  the 
announcement,  "  Sultan  Melik-el-Mansour  is  going  to  see  the 
country  of  his  brother." 

Sidi  Ali  Asmai-ed-Din  was  not  satisfied.  He  was  an  old  min- 
ister who  knew  that  out  of  every  affair  causes  of  trouble  may 
arise.  But  it  was  his  duty  to  obey.  The  prince  started.  He 
made  the  tour  of  the  city  of  Pasey,  and  then  entered  the  palace 
of  the  Sultan  Melik-ed-Dhahir.  There  he  fell  in  love  with  one 
of  the  ladies-of-honor  of  his  brother's  court,  and  a  quarrel 
arose  between  the  two  brothers  on  her  account.  Sultan  Melik- 
ed-Dhahir  felt  in  the  bottom  of  his  heart  a  violent  irritation 
toward  his  brother. 

Now  he  had  a  son  named  Radja  Ahmed,  very  young  when 
his  father  was  captured,  but  grown  up  when  the  prince  was 
restored  from  the  hands  of  Chehr-en-Naoui.  Sidi  Ali  Ghaiath- 
ed-Din  having  withdrawn  from  affairs,  a  minister  named  Para- 
patih  Toulous  Toukang  Sikari  had  replaced  him  in  his  minis- 
terial functions.  One  day  the  King  said  to  the  minister: 

"  What  is  your  opinion  concerning  the  act  of  Sultan  Melik- 
el-Mansour  ?  " 

The  minister  answered:    "  We  have  a  means " 

"  But,"  answered  the  King,  "  it  might  involve  his  death." 

"  If  he  dies,"  replied  the  minister,  "  my  name  shall  be  no 
longer  Toukang." 


SEDJARET  MALAYOU  in 

"  Give  a  family  fete  for  your  son  Sultan  Ahmed.  We  will 
invite  Sultan  Melik-el-Mansour  to  the  festival." 

Sultan  Melik-ed-Dhahir  gave  orders  then  to  decorate  the 
city  and  made  preparations  for  the  fete,  and  sent  to  find  Sultan 
Melik-el-Mansour.  This  prince  was  with  Sidi  AH  Asmai-ed- 
Din  and  his  officers.  They  introduced  the  prince  and  his 
minister,  but  left  the  officers  outside.  When  they  had  entered, 
Sultan  Melik-ed-Dhahir  caused  them  both  to  be  seized  and 
ordered  one  of  his  officers  to  conduct  his  brother  to  Mandjang. 
"  As  for  you,"  he  said  to  Sidi  Ali,  "  stay  here.  Do  not  try 
to  go  with  your  master  or  I'll  cut  off  your  head." 

Sidi  Ali  answered :  "  Rather  let  my  head  be  separated  from 
my  body  than  that  the  servant  should  be  separated  from  his 
master." 

So  the  King  had  his  head  cut  off.  The  head  was  thrown 
into  the  sea  and  the  body  impaled  at  the  entrance  to  the  Bay 
of  Pasey.  While  they  were  taking  the  Sultan  Melik-el-Man- 
sour toward  the  east  in  a  prabo,  at  the  moment  when  they 
arrived  near  Djambou  Ayer,  the  pilot  saw  a  human  head  float- 
ing in  the  water  near  the  rudder.  He  recognized  the  head  of 
Sidi  Ali.  Informed  of  this  event,  Sultan  Melik-el-Mansour 
caused  the  head  to  be  taken  from  the  water.  It  was  indeed  that 
of  his  minister.  Casting  his  glances  toward  the  land :  "  Be- 
hold," he  said,  "the  Plain  of  Illusions."  And  it  bears  that 
name,  "  Padang-Maya,"  to  this  day.  The  prince  sent  to  his 
brother  and  demanded  the  body  of  Sidi  Ali ;  joined  the  head 
with  the  body,  and  buried  both  in  the  Plain  of  Illusion.  Then 
he  went  back  to  Mandjang. 

After  the  departure  of  the  Sultan  Melik-el-Mansour,  King 
Melik-ed-Dhahir  had  the  family  festival.  The  Sultan  Melik- 
el-Mansour  had  been  at  Mandjang  three  years  when  the  Sultan 
Melik-ed-Dhahir  bethought  him  of  his  brother. 

"  Alas,"  he  said,  "  I  was  truly  too  unwise.  For  a  woman 
my  brother  dethroned,  and  his  minister  is  dead." 

And  the  prince  repented.  He  ordered  some  of  his  officers 
to  go  and  find  his  brother  at  Mandjang.  They  therefore 
brought  back  Sultan  Melik-el-Mansour  with  the  regard  due 
to  a  king.  When  they  arrived  near  the  Plain  of  Maya,  the 
prince  landed  to  visit  the  tomb  of  Sidi  Ali  Asmai-ed-Din. 
"  I  salute  you,  my  father,"  he  said.  "  Stay  here,  rny  father. 
As  for  me  I  go  away,  called  by  my  brother." 


H2  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

From  the  interior  of  the  tomb  Sidi  AH  answered :  "  Where 
would  the  prince  go  ?  It  is  better  to  remain  here." 

When  the  prince  heard  these  words,  he  made  his  ablutions, 
said  a  couple  of  prayers,  then  stretched  himself  upon  the  tomb 
and  expired.  They  bore  to  Sultan  Melik-ed-Dhahir  the  news 
that  his  brother  was  dead,  in  the  Plain  of  Maya,  in  the  tomb 
of  Sidi  AH  Asmai-ed-Din.  He  started  at  once,  went  to  the 
place,  and  had  his  brother,  Sultan  Melik-el-Mansour,  buried 
with  the  ceremonies  of  great  kings.  Then,  after  returning 
to  Pasey,  a  prey  to  grief,  he  abdicated  the  throne  in  favor  of 
his  son,  Sultan  Ahmed. 

Some  time  after  this,  Sultan  Melik-ed-Dhahir  fell  ill.  He 
gave  Sultan  Ahmed  his  last  instructions.  "  O  my  son,"  said 
he,  "  light  of  my  eyes,  treasure  of  my  heart,  never  neglect  the 
advice  of  your  old  servitors.  In  every  affair  take  counsel  with 
your  ministers.  Neglect  not  the  duties  of  piety  to  God,  the 
sovereign  Master.  Beware  of  injustice  to  men." 

Sultan  Ahmed  heard  in  tears  the  last  words  of  his  father. 
The  prince  died,  and  they  buried  him  near  the  mosque. 

Sultan  Ahmed  was  for  many  years  on  the  throne  and  gov- 
erned with  much  justice.  Now,  the  author  of  this  story  says : 
"  There  was  at  Pasey  a  servant  of  God  named  Toun  Djana 
Khatite.  This  man  made  the  voyage  to  Singapore  with  two 
companions.  Crossing  the  square  of  Singapore  he  passed  by 
the  palace  of  the  King  and  saw  the  Queen.  Near  the  palace  was 
an  areca  tree,  and  while  Toun  Djana  was  looking  at  the 
Queen  the  tree  split  in  two.  At  sight  of  this,  King  Sri  Maha- 
radja  was  extremely  irritated.  '  You  see,'  he  cried,  '  the  con- 
duct of  Toun  Djana  Khatite.  To  call  the  attention  of  the 
Queen,  he  has  acted  thus.  And  he  ordered  him  to  be  killed. 
So  Toun  Djana  was  led  to  the  place  of  punishment,  near  a 
cake-shop,  where  Toun  Djana  Khatite  received  the  blow  of 
the  poniard;  his  blood  ran  on  the  earth,  but  his  body  dis- 
appeared and  no  one  could  ever  tell  what  became  of  it.  The 
cake-shop-keeper  covered  the  blood  with  the  cake-cover,  and 
the  cake-cover  was  changed  into  stone,  which  is  still  seen  at 
Singapore.  According  to  a  tradition,  the  body  of  Toun  Djana 
Khatite  was  transported  to  Langkaoui  and  there  buried." 

Some  time  later  came  the  sea-monsters  called  toudaks  and 
attacked  Singapore.  They  leaped  upon  the  shore,  and  people 


SEDJARET  MALAYOU  113 

who  were  there  died  in  great  numbers,  overtaken  by  these 
toudaks.  If  they  struck  a  man  on  the  breast,  they  pierced  to 
his  back.  If  they  struck  the  neck  or  the  loins,  they  pierced 
clear  through  from  one  side  to  the  other.  There  were' many 
killed.  People  ran  about  crying: 

"  The  toudaks  are  attacking  us !  " 

"What  shall  we  do?" 

"  How  many  dead  ?    We  shall  all  perish !  " 

Padouka  Sri  Maharadja  in  great  haste  mounts  the  elephant 
and  goes  forth,  followed  by  his  ministers,  his  body-guards,  and 
all  his  officers.  Arriving  at  the  seashore  he  sees  with  horror 
the  work  of  these  monsters,  the  toudaks.  Whoever  was 
wounded  by  them  inevitably  perished.  The  number  of  the 
victims  became  larger  and  larger.  The  prince  ordered  the  men 
to  make  a  rampart  of  their  legs,  but  in  their  boundings  the 
toudaks  succeeded  in  passing^  this  barrier.  They  came  like  the 
rain,  and  the  slaughter  was  terrible.  While  this  was  happening 
a  young  boy  said : 

"  Why  make  thus  a  rampart  of  our  legs  ?  That  is  an  artifice 
very  much  to  our  hurt.  If  we  should  make  a  rampart  of  the 
trunks  of  banana-trees,  would  not  that  be  better  ?  " 

When  Padouka  Sri  Maharadja  heard  the  words  of  the  child, 
"  He  is  right,"  he  said.  And  on  his  orders  they  hastened  to 
construct  a  barrier  of  banana-tree  trunks.  When  the  toudaks 
came  bounding  along  their  snouts  were  buried  in  the  tree- 
trunks,  and  the  men  ran  up  and  killed  them.  There  perished 
thus  of  these  toudaks  a  number  beyond  computation.  Their 
bodies  formed  heaps  on  the  shore,  and  all  the  population  of 
Singapore  did  not  suffice  to  eat  them.  And  the  toudaks  ceased 
their  leapings.  They  say,  by  the  force  of  their  boundings  the 
toudaks  reached  the  elephant  of  the  prince  and  tore  the  sleeve 
of  his  cloak.  About  this  they  made  a  song : 

"  The  boundings  of  the  toudaks  tore 
The  mantle  which  the  Sultan  wore, 
But  here  they  ceased  their  onset  wild, 
Thanks  to  the  wisdom  of  a  child." 

While  Padouka  Sri  Maharadja  was  returning,  the  grandees 
said  to  him :    "  Lord,  this  child,  though  so  young,  has  much 
wit.    What  will  it  be  when  he  has  grown  up  ?    You  had  better 
8 


II4  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

get  rid  of  him."  That  is  why  they  found  it  just  that  the  King 
should  give  the  order  for  him  to  be  killed. 

After  they  had  caused  this  young  boy  to  perish,  it  seems 
that  the  city  of  Singapore  felt  the  weight  of  his  blood. 

Padouka  Sri  Maharadja  reigned  some  time  still  and  then 
died.  He  had  as  successor  his  son  Padja  Is  Keuder  Chah, 
who  married  the  daughter  of  Toun  Parapatih  Toulous,  and  by 
her  had  a  son  named  Radja  Ahmed  Timang-timanganga 
Radja  Besar  Mouda.  This  young  prince  was  handsome  and 
well  formed,  without  equal  in  those  days.  When  he  was  of 
age  his  father  married  him  to  the  daughter  of  the  King  Sala- 
miam,  King  of  Kota-Mahlikie,  who  was  named  Kamar-al- 
Adjaaib,  a  princess  of  unrivalled  beauty.  King  Is  Keuder 
Chad  had  a  bendahari,  or  major-domo,  named  Lang  Radjouna 
Tapa,  of  the  race  of  ancient  inhabitants  of  Singapore,  father 
of  a  very  beautiful  girl  in  the  court  of  the  King.  The  other 
court  ladies  calumniated  this  young  woman,  and  the  King  in 
a  rage  ordered  her  to  be  impaled  in  the  corner  of  the  market- 
place. 

Lang  Radjouna  Tapa  was  extremely  wounded  by  the  treat- 
ment of  his  daughter.  "  If  in  truth  my  daughter  had  offended," 
said  he,  "  you  might  have  simply  had  her  killed.  But  why  dis- 
honor us  thus  ?  "  On  this  he  wrote  a  letter  to  Java  saying, 
"  If  the  Batara  of  Madjapahit  wishes  to  attack  Singapore  let 
him  come  at  once,  for  I  will  give  him  entrance  into  the  forti- 
fications." 

When  the  Batara  of  Madjapahit  had  read  this  letter  he 
caused  to  be  equipped  300  junks  and  a  great  quantity  of  other 
boats.  A  hundred  thousand  Javanese  embarked,  crossed  the 
sea,  and  attacked  Singapore.  At  the  end  of  several  days  King 
Is  Keuder  commanded  his  major-domo  to  carry  rice  for  the 
rations  of  the  troops.  Lang  Radjouna  Tapa  answered, 
'  There  is  no  more,  my  Lord."  For  he  wished  to  betray  him. 
At  daybreak  he  opened  the  gates  of  the  fortifications  and  the 
Javanese  entered.  Inside  the  town  there  was  a  frantic  com- 
bat. So  many  people  were  killed  on  each  side  that  blood  flowed 
like  water.  From  this  came  the  marks  of  blood  which  are 
seen  to  this  day  in  the  Plain  of  Singapore.  The  natives  ceased 
their  struggle  and  King  Is  Keuder  escaped,  descending  from 
Salitar  to  the  Moara  coast.  By  the  will  of  God,  the  house  of 


SEDJARET  MALAYOU  115 

Lang  Radjouna  Tapa  was  overturned,  the  storehouse  for  rice 
fell  to  pieces,  and  the  rice  was  changed  to  earth.  The  bendahan 
himself  and  his  wife  were  changed  to  stone,  and  'these  stones 
are  still  found  in  the  ditch  at  Singapore.  After  this  victory 
the  Javanese  returned  to  Madjapahit. 

On  arriving  at  Moara,  King  Is  Keuder  halted  at  nightfall. 
Now  there  came  a  multitude  of  iguanas,  and,  when  day 
dawned  they  saw  them  gathered  in  a  crowd  near  the  halting- 
place.  They  killed  them  and  threw  their  bodies  into  the  river. 
But  at  night,  iguanas  again  came  in  mass.  The  next  morning 
the  Singaporeans  killed  them,  but  that  night  as  many  more 
arrived.  So  that  the  place  became  putrid  from  the  multitude  of 
their  bodies.  The  quarter  is  still  called  Biaoak  Bousok,  or 
"  Putrid  Iguanas." 

King  Is  Keuder  Chah  set  out  and  came  to  another  place, 
where  he  built  a  fort.  But  all  they  constructed  by  day  was 
overturned  by  night.  And  the  place  still  bears  the  name  of 
Kota-Bourok,  or  "  Ruined  Fort." 

Starting  from  there  the  King  advanced  into  the  interior 
during  many  days  and  came  to  the  Saning  Oudjong.  He  found 
this  place  agreeable  and  left  a  minister  there.  Hence  comes  it 
that  to  this  day  Saning  Oudjong  is  the  residence  of  a  minister. 
Then  the  King  returned  toward  the  coast  near  a  river  at  the 
shore  of  the  sea.  The  river  was  called  Bartain.  Is  Keuder 
Chah  halted  at  the  foot  of  a  very  bushy  tree.  Then  he  began 
hunting.  His  dog,  chasing  some  game,  was  struck  by  the  foot 
of  a  little  white  gazelle  and  fell  into  the  water.  On  this  the 
prince  cried : 

"  Here  is  a  good  place  to  build  a  city,  for  even  the  little 
gazelles  are  valiant  here." 

And  all  the  grandees  said,  "  His  Majesty  is  right."  The 
King  therefore  gave  orders  for  the  construction  of  a  city  at 
this  place.  He  asked,  "  What  is  the  name  of  this  tree  against 
which  I  have  been  leaning?" 

Someone  answered,  "  It  is  a  malaka-tree."  "  Very  well," 
said  he,  "  let  Malaka  be  the  name  of  the  city." 

The  prince  established  himself  at  Malaka.  'He  had  lived 
thirty-two  years  at  Singapore,  up  to  the  capture  of  that  town 
by  the  Javanese.  He  lived  for  three  years  more  at  Malaka,  and 
then  died,  by  the  vicissitudes  of  this  world,  and  had  as  successor 
his  son  Radja  Besar  Mouda. 


n6  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

This  prince  governed  with  justice.  He  regulated  the  eti- 
quette of  the  court.  He  first  established  a  ministry  of  cere- 
monies to  direct  people  who  came  to  Balerong,  and  forty 
heralds  who  stood  below  the  throne  ready  to  take  the  orders  of 
the  King  and  carry  to  him  the  words  of  the  public.  He  insti- 
tuted among  the  sons  of  the  grandees  a  body  of  pages  serving 
as  royal  messengers  and  bearing  everywhere  the  royal  equipage. 

This  prince  had  three  sons,  Radeu  Bagousa,  Radeu  Tengah, 
and  Radeu  Anoumah,  who  all  married  daughters  of  Bauhara 
Toun  Parapatih  Toulous.  At  his  death,  Radeu  Bagousa  took 
his  functions  with  the  title  of  Toun  Parapatih  Permouka  Ber- 
djadjar. 

When,  by  the  vicissitudes  of  the  world,  King  Besar  Mouda 
died,  his  son  Radeu  Tengah  succeeded  him.  The  latter  had  a 
son  called  Radja  Kitchil  Bessar,  who  at  his  death  was  his 
successor.  He  was  just  and  guarded  the  interests  of  his  sub- 
jects. No  one  in  his  time  among  the  kings  of  the  world 
equalled  him  in  liberality.  And  the  city  of  Malaka  became 
large,  well  peopled,  and  the  meeting-place  of  merchants.  This 
King  married  a  daughter  of  Toun  Parapatih  Permouka  Ber- 
djadjar,  and  by  her  had  two  sons,  Radja  Kitchil  Mainbang 
and  Radja  Makat.  He  reigned  for  a  certain  time,  when  one 
night  he  dreamed  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  the  glorious 
prophet  of  God,  on  whom  be  blessings !  And  the  prophet  said 
to  him,  "  Recite  the  words  of  the  creed."  And  Radja  Kitchil 
Bessar  did  as  the  prophet  commanded. 

"  Your  name  shall  be  Sultan  Mahomet,"  said  the  prophet. 
"  To-morrow  at  the  moment  of  the  Asr  (in  the  afternoon)  there 
will  arrive  a  ship  from  Djedda,  from  which  the  men  will 
descend  to  pray  on  the  shore  of  Malaka.  Follow  all  their 
orders." 

"  Yes,  Lord/'  replied  the  prince,  "  I  shall  obey  your  word." 

And  the  prophet  disappeared.  When  day  came  the  King 
awaked.  He  perceived  upon  his  body  the  odor  of  spikenard 
and  saw  that  he  bore  certain  marks.  "  It  is  clear,"  he  thought, 
"  that  my  dream  does  not  come  from  Satan."  And  he  began 
to  recite  without  relaxation  the  words  of  the  creed. 

The  ladies-of-honor  who  were  in  the  palace  were  very  much 
surprised  to  hear  the  King  speak  thus.  "  Has  the  King  been 
touched  by  Satan,  or  has  he  lost  his  wits?  Let  us  hasten  to, 


SEDJARET  MALAYOU  117 

inform  the  bendahari."  They  ran  to  tell  the  bendahari,  who  came 
at  once,  entered  the  palace,  and  saw  the  King  repeating  with- 
out cessation  the  words  of  the  creed. 

"What  is  this  language  in  which  the  King  is  speaking?" 
said  the  minister. 

"  Last  night,"  said  the  King,  "  I  dreamed  that  I  was  in  the 
presence  of  the  glorious  prophet."  And  he  told  his  dream  to 
the  bendahari. 

".If  your  dream  is  not  an  illusion,"  said  the  latter,  "  what  is 
the  sign?" 

"  Here  is  the  sign  that  proves  that  I  have  really  seen  in  a 
dream  the  prophet  of  God.  Furthermore,  the  prophet  told  me : 
'  To-day,  at  Asr,  there  will  arrive  a  ship  from  Djedda,  from 
which  the  people  will  descend  to  say  their  prayers  on  the  shore 
of  Malaka.  Follow  their  directions.'  " 

The  bendahari  was  surprised  at  seeing  the  marks  on  the 
King. 

"  Truly,"  he  said,  "  if  a  ship  arrives  at  the  hour  stated,  then 
your  dream  is  a  reality.  If  it  does  not  arrive,  we  shall  judge 
that  Satan  must  have  troubled  your  spirit." 

The  King  replied,  "  My  father  is  right."  And  the  bendahari 
returned  to  his  house. 

Now  at  the  hour  of  Asr  there  arrived  a  ship  from  Djedda 
which  cast  anchor.  The  master  came  on  shore.  He  was  called 
Sidi  Abd-el-Aziz.  He  said  his  prayers  on  the  shore  of  Malaka. 
The  inhabitants,  astonished  at  the  sight,  said : 

"  Why  does  he  stoop  so  and  prostrate  himself  so  ?  " 

And  to  see  him  better,  the  people  pressed  around,  leaving  no  v 
spot  vacant,  and  making  a  great  tumult. 

The  noise  reached  the  palace,  and  the  King  mounted  an 
elephant  and  came  in  haste,  accompanied  by  his  grandees.  He 
saw  the  master  making  all  the  ceremonies  of  his  prayer,  and  all 
was  in  evident  accord  with  the  dream. 

"It  is  exactly  as  in  my  dream,"  he  exclaimed  to  the  bendahari 
and  the  grandees. 

When  the  master  had  finished  praying,  the  King  made  his 
elephant  stoop,  and  took  up  the  master  with  him  and  carried 
him  to  the  palace.  The  bendahari  and  the  grandees  all  be- 
came Mussulmans,  and  by  command  of  the  King  so  did  all  the 
population,  men  and  women,  great  and  small,  young  and  old. 


n8  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

The  master  taught  the  King  the  ceremonies  of  prayer,  and 
gave  him  the  name  of  Sultan  Mahomet  Chah.  The  bendahari 
received  the  title  of  Sri  Ouak  Radja ;  that  is  to  say,  "  Paternal 
Uncle  of  the  King,"  which  he  was  in  fact.  And  that  is  the 
first  title  of  the  bendahari. 

Sultan  Mahomet  regulated  the  ceremonial  customs  of  the 
court.  He  was  the  first  to  prohibit  yellow  for  the  clothes  of 
the  person  strange  to  the  court,  for  handkerchiefs,  borders  of 
curtains,  pillow-cases,  mattresses,  coverings  of  all  kinds,  orna- 
ments of  every  nature,  as  well  as  for  the  decoration  of  houses. 

Furthermore  the  use  of  only  three  kinds  of  garments  was 
permitted — the  kain,  the  badjoa,  and  the  destar.  It  was  also 
forbidden  to  construct  houses  with  projections  sustained  upon 
pillars  not  touching  the  ground,  or  with  pillars  extending  be- 
yond the  roof  or  with  observatories.  The  prahos  could  have  no 
windows  in  front.  It  was  forbidden  to  carry  clasps  or  orna- 
ments of  gold  on  the  kris.  No  one  strange  to  the  court  could 
have  gold  rings  nor  pins  nor  jingling  bangles  of  gold  and 
silver.  Nobody  without  the  royal  consent  had  the  right  to 
wear  on  his  clothes  gilding  of  any  sort ;  but  the  authorization 
once  granted,  one  might  wear  it  indefinitely.  When  a  man  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  palace,  if  he  had  a  vesture  falling  be- 
neath the  girdle,  if  his  kris  was  not  attached  in  front,  if  he 
was  not  clad  in  a  sabec,  he  was  not  admitted,  whatever  might 
be  his  distinction.  If  anyone  entered  with  his  kris  attached 
behind,  the  officer  took  it  away  from  him. 

Such  were  formerly  the  prohibitions  of  the  Malay  kings. 
Whoever  transgressed  was  guilty  of  lese-majeste  and  was  con- 
demned to  pay  a  fine  of  one  to  five  katis.  White  parasols  were 
held  in  higher  esteem  than  yellow  ones,  because  they  could  be 
seen  at  a  greater  distance.  That  is  why  they  were  ranked 
higher;  the  first  were  for  the  King  and  the  second  for  the 
princes.  The  objects  of  the  king's  private  use,  such  as  the 
spittoon,  the  ewer  for  his  ablutions,  the  fan,  and  other  like 
objects,  had  no  fixed  place,  except  the  betel-tray  and  the  sword, 
which  they  kept  at  the  right  and  left  of  the  sovereign.  At  the 
arrival  and  departure  of  an  ambassador,  the  servitors  of  the 
King  brought  from  the  palace  dishes  and  basins  which  were 
received  by  the  head  of  the  bataras  and  deposited  near  the 
bendahari.  They  gave  a  dish  and  a  scarf  to  the  bearer  of  the 


SEDJARET  MALAYOU  119 

letter.  If  the  missive  came  from  Pasey  or  from  Harau,  it  was 
received  with  all  the  royal  pomp— drum,  flute,  trumpet,  kettle- 
drum, and  two  white  parasols  together ;  but  the  bugle  did  not 
figure  at  this  reception.  The  ministers  preceded  the  elephant 
bearing  the  message,  the  bataras  followed  it  with  the  sida-sida. 
The  letter  was  borne  by  the  chief  of  the  bedaouenda,  and  they 
placed  the  elephant  at  the  extremity  of  the  balei.  For  the  kings 
of  these  two  countries  were  equal  in  greatness  to  the  King  of 
Malaka.  Younger  or  older,  all  gave  the  salaam. 

Having  reached  the  audience-chamber,  the  letter  was  re- 
ceived by  the  chief  of  heralds  of  the  right,  the  one  of  the  left 
being  charged  with  transmitting  the  words  of  the  King  to  the 
ambassador,  and  the  herald  of  the  right  transmitted  the  answer. 
If  the  message  came  from  another  country  than  Pasey  and 
Harau,  they  suppressed  part  of  the  men.  The  cortege  in- 
cluded only  the  drum,  the  flute,  and  a  yellow  parasol.  They 
took,  as  was  suitable,  now  an  elephant,  now  a  horse,  and  they 
halted  outside  the  first  exterior  gate.  When  the  message  came 
from  a  more  considerable  sovereign,  they  employed  the  flute 
and  two  parasols,  one  white  and  one  yellow.  The  elephant 
passed  through  the  exterior  gate,  for  formerly  the  royal  en- 
trance included  seven  fortifications.  At  his  departure,  the 
ambassador  received  a  complete  investiture,  even  were  he  only 
a  simple  ambassador  of  Rakan.  The  same  gift  was  offered 
to  our  own  ambassadors  at  the  moment  of  their  departure. 

When  the  King  conferred  a  title,  he  gave  audience  in  the 
falerong,  with  the  following  procedure:  According  to  the 
rank,  the  person  to  be  honored  was  brought  on  an  elephant,  on 
horseback,  or  simply  on  foot,  with  parasol,  drum,  and  flute. 
There  were  green,  blue,  and  red  parasols.  The  noblest  were 
the  yellow  and  the  white,  which  with  the  kettle-drums  repre- 
sented the  height  of  distinction.  The  yellow  with  the  trumpet 
was  also  very  distinguished;  they  were  the  parasols  of  the 
princes  and  greatest  personages.  The  violet,  red,  and  green 
parasols  were  those  of  the  sida-sida,  of  the  bataras,  and  of 
the  houlou  balongs.  The  blue  and  black  ones  served  for  any 
other  person  summoned  to  receive  a  title.  When  the  personage 
arrived  at  the  palace,  he  was  detained  without.  Then  they 
read  before  the  King  a  very  fine  piece.  It  was  a  descendant  of 
Batl  that  held  this  office.  The  piece  read,  they  took  it  out. 


120  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

He  who  received  it  was  of  the  family  of  the  candidate  for 
honors.  With  this  piece  they  brought  a  tetampan  scarf  with 
which  the  reader  invested  the  candidate,  whom  he  then  intro- 
duced into  the  audience-chamber.  There  a  mat  was  stretched 
for  him  to  sit  upon  in  whatever  place  the  King  designated. 

Then  arrived  the  vestments.  For  a  personage  promoted 
to  the  ranks  of  the  bendahari  there  were  five  trays.  The  sons 
of  radjas  and  the  grand  officers  had  four  trays  only,  and  so  on 
down  through  the  various  ranks.  The  servitors  of  the  King 
charged  with  this  duty  approached  the  beneficiary  and  placed 
the  vestments  upon  his  shoulders.  He  crossed  his  arms,  to 
hold  the  vestments  in  place,  and  they  took  him  outside.  The 
etiquette  in  that  was  the  same  for  ambassadors  awarded  an 
investiture,  each  according  to  the  rights  of  his  rank.  The 
beneficiary  dressed  himself  outside  and  then  re-entered.  They 
decorated  him  with  a  frontlet  and  with  bracelets,  for  every 
man  who  received  a  title  wore  bracelets,  each  according  to  his 
dignity.  Some  had  bracelets  in  the  form  of  a  dragon  with 
amulets,  others  had  bracelets  of  precious  stones,  others  of  blue 
enamel,  others  of  silver.  These  wore  them  on  both  wrists,  those 
on  only  one.  The  beneficiary  thus  decorated  went  and  bowed 
before  the  King.  Then  he  returned  accompanied  according  to 
his  rank,  or  by  the  person  who  introduced  him.  The  cortege 
included  now  a  drum  and  a  flute  alone,  now  trumpets  or  kettle- 
drums, sometimes  a  white  parasol ;  but  the  white  parasol  was 
a  rare  honor,  as  well  as  the  kettle-drums,  for  the  yellow  para- 
sol and  the  trumpet  were  very  hard  to  obtain  in  those  times. 

On  festival  days,  when  the  King  went  forth  in  a  palanquin, 
he  was  surrounded  by  high  officers  of  state.  At  the  head, 
before  the  sovereign,  marched  the  bataras  and  the  houlou 
balongs,  each  following  their  charge.  Footmen,  also  before 
the  King,  bore  the  royal  insignia.  The  royal  pikes  were  at  the 
right  and  left;  the  bataras  had  sword  at  shoulder.  Before 
them  marched  the  lancers.  When  the  King  gives  a  festival  it 
is  the  panghoulou  bendahari  who  arranges  everything  inside  the 
palace,  stretches  mats,  decorates  the  balerong,  and  places  the 
bangings  on  the  ceilings.  It  is  he  who  looks  after  the  repasts 
and  sends  the  invitations;  for  the  servitors  of  the  King,  his 
bendahari,  his  tax-gatherers,  and  the  receiver  of  the  port  all 
depend  on  the  administration  of  the  panghoulou  bendahari. 


SEDJARET  MALA  YOU  121 

He  invites  the  guests  and  the  temonggoreg  seats  them.  In  the 
hall  the  guests  eat  four  at  a  dish,  to  the  end  of  the  platform. 
If  any  one  of  the  various  fours  are  lacking  the  others  eat  with- 
out him,  by  threes  or  by  twos  or  even  one  alone.  For  it  is  not 
permitted  for  those  below  to  ascend  to  make  up  the  number. 
The  bendahari  eats  alone  or  from  the  same  dish  as  the  princes. 

Such  was  in  former  days  the  etiquette  of  Malaka.  There 
were  many  other  regulations,  but  to  relate  them  all  would 
weary  the  attentions  of  my  readers.  At  the  month  of 
Ramadhau,  at  the  twenty-seventh  night,  while  it  was  still  light, 
they  went  in  state  to  make  adorations  to  the  mosque.  The 
Temonggoreg  was  at  the  head  of  the  elephant.  They  first  took 
in  state  to  the  mosque  the  betel-tray,  the  royal  insignia,  and  the 
drum.  When  night  came,  the  King  started  for  the  mosque,  fol- 
lowing the  ceremonial  of  festival  days,  made  the  prayer  of 
perfumes,  and  returned. 

The  next  day  the  laksamana  carried  in  state  the  turban,  for 
the  Malay  kings  were  accustomed  to  go  to  the  mosque  in  a 
turban,  a  badjon,  and  a  sarong.  These  vestments  were  for- 
bidden at  weddings  except  by  express  permission.  It  was  also 
forbidden  to  dress  in  the  Hindoo  fashion.  Only  those  persons 
who  had  worn  this  costume  for  a  long  time  were  allowed  to 
wear  it  at  prayers  and  at  weddings.  Festival  days,  great  or 
small,  the  bendahari  and  the  grandees  assembled  at  the  palace, 
and  the  panghoulou  bendahari  brought  in  pomp  the  palanquin. 
As  soon  as  they  saw  it  appear,  the  persons  seated  in  the  balei 
descended  and  stood  about.  Seven  times  they  beat  upon  the 
drum,  and  each  time  the  trumpet  sounded.  After  the  seventh, 
the  King  set  out  on  an  elephant  and  came  to  the  platform 
erected  for  that  purpose,  which  he  mounted.  At  sight  of  him, 
all  those  present  bowed  to  the  earth,  except  the  bendahari,  who 
mounted  the  platform  to  receive  him.  The  palanquin  having 
approached,  the  King  placed  himself  in  it,  and  they  started  for 
the  mosque  according  to  the  ceremonial  above  mentioned. 

Such  was  formerly  the  etiquette  of  the  Malay  kings.  Such 
I  learned  it,  such  I  tell  it.  If  I  commit  any  error,  I  desire  to 
be  convicted  by  anyone  who  has  given  attention  to  this  story, 
and  implore  the  indulgence  of  the  reader. 


CHOICE   EXAMPLES   OF   FRENCH   SCULPTURE. 


GRACE. 

Photo-engraving  from  the  original  statue  in  the  foyer  of  the 
Grand  Opera  House  at  Paris. 

Just  as  to  French  literature  belongs  the  honor  of  having  given  to  the  world  of 
letters  some  of  the  most  profound  classics  of  modern  times,  so  to  French  art  belongs 
the  genius  of  idealization  in  its  supremest  manifestation.  In  its  conceptions  poetry 
is  never  lacking,  and  M.  Loison,  in  this  symbolizing  of  the  Spirit  of  Grace,  has 
given  fresh  evidence  of  the  spiritual  altitude  of  the  French  in  art. 


THE    PRINCESS    D  JOU  HER-M  ANIK  AM 

[Translated  by  Aristide  Marre  and  Chauncey  C.  Starkweather} 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM 

THIS  is  the  history  of  the  Princess  Djouher-Manikam, 
whose  renown  is  celebrated  in  all  lands,  windward  and 
leeward. 

There  was  in  the  city  of  Bagdad  a  king  named  Haroun-er- 
Raschid,  sovereign  of  a  vast  empire.  He  was  a  prince  who 
feared  God  the  almighty,  and  worthy  of  all  praise,  for  he  was 
a  king  descended  from  the  prophet.  After  having  lived  for 
some  time  in  his  kingdom,  he  desired  to  start  on  a  pilgrimage. 
So  he  addressed  his  ministers  and  his  military  chiefs  and  spoke 
to  them  as  follows : 

"  O  you  all,  my  subjects,  my  officers,  what  is  your  opinion? 
I  would  fain  make  a  pilgrimage  to  the  house  of  God." 

The  cadi,  prostrating  himself,  answered :  "  Sire,  King  of 
the  world,  the  will  of  your  sublime  Majesty  is  very  just,  but  in 
my  opinion  your  departure  would  cause  the  ruin  of  the  in- 
habitants of  the  fields,  and  those  of  your  subjects  who  ac- 
company you  will  have  much  to  suffer." 

The  prince,  having  heard  these  words,  said :  "  The  opinion 
of  the  cadi  is  loyal,  and  you,  my  officers,  tell  what  is  your 
advice." 

The  officers  arose,  then  they  prostrated  themselves  and 
spoke  as  follows :  "  Sire,  King  of  the  world,  we,  your 
servants,  beg  you  a  thousand  and  a  thousand  times  to  cause 
your  forgiveness  to  descend  upon  our  heads,  but  how  will 
your  Majesty  accomplish  the  pilgrimage?  In  whom  can  you 
trust  to  protect  the  country  and  watch  over  the  palace  ?  " 

The  prince  having  heard  these  words  of  his  officers,  none 
of  whom  approved  of  the  pilgrimage,  kept  silence  and  re- 
strained his  anger,  and  then  departed  and  returned  to  the 
palace.  Some  days  after  this,  by  the  will  of  the  most  high 
God,  the  heart  of  the  prince  felt  more  keenly  still  the  desire 
to  make  the  pilgrimage.  He  gave  orders  to  gather  together 

125 


126  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

the  interpreters  of  the  law,  the  wise  men,  and  the  muftis,  as 
well  as  the  officers.  When  they  were  all  assembled,  the  prince 
went  to  the  audience-chamber,  and  there  before  the  officers 
of  the  court  he  questioned  one  of  the  doctors.  It  was  the 
mufti  of  the  city  of  Bagdad.  He,  prostrating  himself,  said: 
"  The  pilgrimage  of  his  Majesty  would  be  an  excellent  work, 
but  is  it  of  absolute  necessity  ?  For  the  voyage  will  be  very 
long,  and  there  is  no  one,  iny  lord,  who  would  be  capable  of 
ruling  in  the  place  of  your  sublime  Majesty." 

The  prince  answered :  "  He  in  whom  we  first  of  all  place 
our  trust  is  God.  We  shall  hope  then  in  the  blessing  of  his 
envoy.  We  shall  leave  the  cadi  here,  and  if  it  pleases  God 
the  most  high,  we  shall  return  promptly  as  soon  as  we  have 
accomplished  the  pilgrimage." 

The  King  therefore  caused  to  be  equipped  and  provided 
with  all  sorts  of  provisions,  those  of  his  subjects  who  were 
going  to  accompany  him,  and  when  the  favorable  moment 
had  arrived  he  started  with  the  Queen,  some  of  the  maids-of- 
honor,  and  his  son  named  Minbah  Chahaz.  He  took  his  son, 
but  he  left  behind,  guarded  in  the  palace,  his  daughter  called 
the  Princess  Djouher-Manikam.  In  those  times  there  was 
no  one  in  the  country  of  Bagdad  who  surpassed  in  beauty  the 
Princess  Djouher-Manikam.  Furthermore,  she  had  in  her 
heart  the  fear  of  God  the  most  high  and  worthy  of  all  praise, 
and  would  not  cease  her  prayers. 

After  travelling  for  some  time,  the  prince  her  father  arrived 
at  Mecca,  and  fulfilled  his  duties  as  a  pilgrim.  He  recited  the 
appropriate  prayers.  But  observing  that  there  was  still  a 
great  quantity  of  provisions,  the  prince  said  to  his  officers : 

"  It  is  good  for  us  to  wait  a  year  or  so,  for  our  provisions 
are  yet  considerable." 

The  officers  replied :  "  It  is  well,  lord  of  the  world !  What- 
ever may  be  your  Majesty's  commands,  we  place  them  above 
our  heads."  "  Since  it  is  thus,"  answered  the  prince,  "  it  is 
fitting  that  we  should  send  a  letter  thus  conceived :  *  Peace 
and  blessing  upon  the  cadi:  I  place  my  trust  in  God  first  of 
all,  and  in  the  cadi,  to  guard  my  kingdom,  palace,  and  my 
child  the  Princess  Djouher-Manikam.  Be  a  faithful  guardian, 
neglect  nothing  in  the  cares  to  be  given  to  my  kingdom,  for 
I  am  going  to  remain  another  year  for  the  great  pilgrimage.'  " 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM  127 

The  prince's  letter  reached  the  cadi.  The  latter  gave  all 
his  efforts  to  the  good  administration  of  the  country,  and, 
according  to  the  words  of  the  prince,  he  avoided  every  negli- 
gence. 

But  one  night  while  he  was  on  watch  near  the  fortifications 
of  the  King's  palace,  Satan  came  to  him  and  slid  into  his  heart 
a  temptation.  The  cadi  thought  in  his  heart :  "  The  King's 
daughter  is  of  a  marvellous  beauty ;  her  name,  Djouher-Mani- 
kam,  is  charming;  and  her  face  is  lovely.  Since  it  is  thus, 
I  must  marry  this  daughter  of  the  King."  The  cadi  called 
the  man  who  was  guarding  the  gate,  exclaiming: 

"  Ho !  Guardian  of  the  gate !     Open  unto  me." 

The  guardian  of  the  gate  demanded,  "  Who  is  there  ?  ^ 

The  cadi  replied,  "  It  is  I,  the  cadi." 

So  the  guardian  promptly  opened  the  gate,  and  the  cadi 
entered  within  the  fortification,  then  went  up  into  the  palace 
and  found  the  princess  there  saying  her  evening  prayers.  He 
hid  behind  the  lamp  in  a  corner  which  was  dark.  When  her 
prayer  was  finished,  the  Princess  Djouher-Manikam  cast  her 
eyes  in  that  direction  and  saw  there  was  someone  standing 
there  in  the  shadow,  so  three  times  again  she  said  the  "  verse 
of  the  Throne  " ;  but  she  saw  that  the  vision  had  not  yet  van- 
ished from  her  eyes. 

Then  the  princess  said  in  her  heart :  "  What  in  the  world 
is  that?  Is  it  a  ghost?  Is  it  a  demon?  Is  it  a  djinn?  If 
it  were,  it  would  have  necessarily  disappeared  when  I  recited 
the  '  verse  of  the  Throne.'  " 

The  cadi  heard  these  words  and  said :  "  O  Princess  Djouher- 
Manikam,  it  is  I,  the  cadi." 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ? "  asked  the  princess.  He 
answered,  "  I  wish  to  marry  you." 

The  Princess  Djouher-Manikam  said :  "  O  cadi !  Why  do 
you  act  so  to  me?  Have  you  then  no  fear  of  God  the  most 
high  and  worthy  of  all  praise  ?  Do  you  not  blush  before  the  face 
of  my  ancestor  the  prophet  Mahomet,  the  envoy  of  God? 
May  the  peace  and  blessings  of  God  be  upon  him!  As  for 
me,  I  am  the  servant  of  the  Lord  and  I  belong  to  the  religion 
of  the  envoy  of  God.  I  fear  to  marry  now.  And  you,  cadi, 
why  do  you  act  so?  My  father  gave  you  a  charge.  He  sent 
you  a  letter  which  commanded  you  to  protect  the  country  and 


iz8  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

all  who  dwelt  in  his  palace.  Why  do  you  conduct  yourself 
in  this  fashion  toward  me  ?  " 

The  cadi,  hearing  these  words  of  the  Princess  Djouher- 
Manikam,  felt  a  great  confusion  in  his  heart.  He  went  out 
of  the  palace  and  returned  home  full  of  trouble  and  emotion. 
When  it  was  day,  the  cadi  sent  a  letter  to  the  King  Haroun-er- 
Raschid  at  Mecca.  It  was  thus  conceived :  "  Your  Majesty 
left  me  to  be  guardian  of  his  kingdom,  his  palace,  and  his 
daughter.  Now,  the  Princess  Djouher-Manikam  desires  to 
marry  me.  This  is  the  reason  why  I  send  this  letter  to  your 
Majesty."  Thus  spake  the  cadi  in  his  letter. 

When  it  reached  the  prince  and  he  had  read  it,  he  imme- 
diately summoned  his  son  Minbah-Chahaz.  He  came  in 
haste,  and  the  King  gave  him  a  cutlass  and  said,  "  Return  to 
Bagdad  and  slay  your  sister,  because  she  will  bring  shame 
upon  the  family  by  marrying  now." 

Minbah-Chahaz  bowed  before  his  father.  Then  he  set  out 
to  return  to  his  own  country. 

Arriving  at  the  end  of  his  journey,  he  entered  the  city,  and 
went  up  to  the  palace  of  the  Princess  Djouher-Manikam.  She 
was  filled  with  joy  and  said,  "  Welcome,  O  my  brother !  " 

Minbah-Chahaz  answered,  "  O  my  little  sister,  our  parents 
will  remain  for  the  great  pilgrimage." 

The  brother  and  sister  thus  chatting  together,  the  Princess 
Djouher-Manikam  said,  "  O  my  brother,  I  wish  to  sleep." 

"  It  is  well,  my  sister,"  answered  Minbah-Chahaz ;  "  sleep 
while  your  brother  combs  his  little  sister's  hair."  And  the 
princess  Djouher-Manikam  slept. 

Her  brother  then  took  a  cushion,  which  he  slipped  under 
the  head  of  the  young  virgin  his  sister;  then  he  thought  in 
his  heart :  "  If  I  do  not  execute  the  commands  of  my  father, 
I  shall  be  a  traitor  to  him.  But,  alas,  if  I  kill  my  sister,  I  shall 
not  have  a  sister  any  more.  If  I  do  not  kill  her,  I  shall  cer- 
tainly commit  a  crime  against  the  most  high,  because  I  shall 
not  have  obeyed  the  order  of  my  father.  I  will  fulfil  then  my 
father's  will.  It  is  a  duty  obligatory  on  all  children.  What 
good  are  these  subterfuges  ?  "  His  resolution  thus  confirmed, 
he  bound  his  handkerchief  over  his  eyes  and  directed  his  cut- 
lass against  his  sister's  neck.  But  at  that  instant,  by  the  will 
of  God  the  most  high,  a  little  gazelle  came  up  and,  by  the 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM  129 

power  of  God  the  most  high,  placed  its  neck  upon  the  neck 
of  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam,  saying,  "  I  will  take  the 
place  of  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam."  And  the  little 
gazelle  was  killed  by  Minbah-Chahaz.  That  done  he  un- 
bound his  eyes  and  saw  a  little  gazelle  lying  dead  with  its 
throat  cut,  by  the  side  of  his  young  sister  the  princess  Djouher- 
Manikam. 

At  this  sight,  Minbah-Chahaz  was  stricken  with  astonish- 
ment. He  thought  in  his  heart :  "  Since  it  is  so  with  my 
sister,  she  must  be  entirely  innocent,  and  cannot  have  com- 
mited  the  least  fault.  Nevertheless,  although  I  am  confident 
that  she  was  calumniated  by  the  cadi  I  must  tell  my  father 
that  I  have  killed  her." 

Minbah-Chahaz  set  out  then  for  Mecca,  to  find  the  prince 
his  father.  When  he  had  arrived  at  Mecca  he  presented  to  his 
father  the  cutlass  still  stained  with  blood.  The  King  Haroun- 
er-Raschid  cried,  "  Praise  be  to  God,  the  Lord  of  the  worlds. 
Our  shame  is  now  effaced,  since  you  have  poniarded  your 
sister  and  she  is  dead."  Such  were  the  deeds  of  this  first 
story. 

The  princess  Djouher-Manikam,  having  awakened  after  the 
departure  of  Minbah-Chahaz,  saw  that  her  brother  was  no 
longer  there,  but  that  at  her  side  there  was  a  little  gazelle  with 
its  throat  cut.  She  thought  in  her  heart :  "  The  cadi  has 
slandered  me  to  my  father,  and  that  is  why  my  brother  came 
here  with  orders  to  kill  me."  The  princess  Djouher-Manikam 
felt  a  great  shame  and  thought  in  her  heart,  "  Since  it  is  so,  I 
must  retire  to  a  hidden  place."  Now  in  the  King's  park  there 
was  a  solitary  place  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  deserted  plain.  There 
was  a  pond  of  very  agreeable  appearance  there,  many  kinds 
of  fruit-trees  and  flowers,  and  an  oratory  beautifully  built. 
The  princess  Djouher-Manikam  set  out  and  retired  to  this 
place  to  pray  to  God  the  most  high  and  worthy  of  all  praise. 
She  was  established  there  for  some  time  when,  by  the  will  of 
God  the  most  high,  a  certain  thing  happened. 


1 30  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 


SECOND  STORY 

There  was  in  the  country  of  Damas  a  king  who  was  named 
Radja  Chah  Djouhou.  This  King  wished  to  go  hunting  in  the 
deserted  forests.  His  first  minister  said  to  him,  bowing  low : 
"  O  my  lord,  King  of  the  world,  why  does  your  Majesty  wish 
to  go  hunting  in  foreign  countries  ?  " 

King  Chah  Djouhou  replied:  "I  insist  upon  my  plan  of 
going  to  hunt  in  foreign  lands,  in  forests  far  removed  from 
ours.  I  wish  to  go  from  place  to  place,  from  plain  to  plain. 
Such  is  my  will."  The  prince  set  out  therefore  accompanied 
by  his  ministers,  his  chiefs,  and  his  servants. 

They  had  all  been  hunting  for  some  time  and  had  not  yet 
found  a  single  bit  of  game.  The  prince  had  directed  his  march 
toward  the  forests  of  the  country  of  Bagdad.  These  forests 
were  of  immense  extent.  The  heat  was  excessive,  and  the 
prince,  being  very  thirsty,  wanted  a  drink  of  water.  The 
people  who  generally  carried  water  for  the  King  said  to  him : 
"  O  lord,  sovereign  of  the  world,  your  Majesty's  provision 
of  water  is  entirely  exhausted." 

The  prince  then  asked  of  his  officers  and  servants :  "  Which 
of  you  can  get  me  water  ?  I  will  reward  him  with  riches  and 
with  slaves." 

These  words  were  heard  by  one  of  his  officers  named  Asraf- 
el-Kaum.  He  said :  "  O  my  lord,  sovereign  of  the  world, 
give  me  the  vase  which  will  serve  for  water,  and  I  will  go  and 
seek  water  for  your  Majesty." 

Then  the  prince  said  to  the  people  who  had  brought  water 
for  his  use,  "  Give  my  emerald  pitcher  into  the  hands  of  Asraf- 
el-Kaum." 

The  latter  bowed  low  and  started  to  seek  water.  Seeing 
from  afar  a  very  large  fig-tree,  he  advanced  in  that  direction. 
Arriving  near  the  tree  he  saw  at  its  base  an  oratory  and  a 
pond.  At  the  oratory  there  was  a  woman  of  very  great  beauty. 
The  splendor  of  her  countenance  shone  like  that  of  the  full 
moon  at  its  fourteenth  day.  Asraf-el-Kaum,  astonished  and 
moved  with  admiration,  thought  in  his  heart :  "  Is  this  a 
human  creature,  or  is  it  a  peri  ?  "  and  Asraf-el-Kaum  saluted 
the  princess  Djouher-Manikam,  who  returned  the  salutation. 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM  131 

Then  the  princess  asked  him,  "  What  is  your  desire  in  com- 
ing here  to  my  dwelling?" 

Asraf-el-Kaum  answered,  "  I  have  come  here  to  ask  you 
for  water,  for  I  have  lost  my  way." 

The  princess  said,  "  Take  water,  lord." 

Asraf-el-Kaum  plunged  the  emerald  pitcher  into  the  pond, 
and  filled  it  with  water.  Then  he  asked  permission  to  re- 
turn. 

Arriving  near  the  King  Chah  Djouhou  he  presented  the 
pitcher  to  the  prince,  who  seized  it  quickly  and  drank. 

"  Asraf-el-Kaum,"  said  the  prince,  "  where  did  you  find 
such  fresh  and  delicious  water?  In  all  my  life  I  have  never 
drunk  the  like." 

Asraf-el-Kaum  answered :  "  O  my  lord,  sovereign  of  the 
world,  there  is  a  garden  in  the  middle  of  the  plain,  and  in  this 
garden  there  is  a  very  large  and  bushy  fig-tree,  and  at  the 
foot  of  this  tree  there  is  a  pond,  and  near  this  pond  there  is 
an  oratory.  At  this  oratory  there  was  a  woman  who  was 
reading  the  Koran.  This  charmingly  beautiful  woman  has 
no  equal  in  this  world.  I  saluted  her  and  then  returned  to 
the  presence  of  the  sovereign  of  the  world.  That  is  what  I 
saw,  my  lord." 

"  Conduct  me  to  this  place,"  said  the  King. 

"  O  sovereign  of  the  world,  if  your  Majesty  wishes  to  go 
thither,  let  it  be  with  me  alone.  Let  not  my  lord  take  his 
people  with  him,  for  it  is  a  woman,  and  naturally  she  would 
be  ashamed." 

The  prince  set  out  then  on  horseback  with  Asraf-el-Kaum. 
The  princess  Djouher-Manikam,  seeing  two  cavaliers  ap- 
proach, thought  in  her  heart :  "  I  must  hide  myself,  so  that 
I  may  not  be  seen."  So  she  left  the  oratory  and  went  toward 
the  fig-tree.  She  addressed  a  prayer  to  God  the  most  high 
and  worthy  of  all  praise,  in  these  terms: 

"  O  God,  I  beseech  thee,  give  me  a  refuge  in  this  tree,  for 
thy  servant,  O  Lord,  is  ashamed  to  look  upon  the  faces  of  these 
infidels." 

Then  by  the  will  of  God  the  most  high,  the  tree  opened  in 
two  and  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam  entered  by  the  split, 
and  the  tree  closed  and  became  as  it  was  before.  The  King 
Chah  Djouhou  and  Asraf-el-Kaum  arrived  at  the  oratory,  but 


1 32  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

the  prince  saw  nothing  of  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam. 
He  was  astonished  and  said: 

"  O  Asraf-el-Kaum,  the  woman  has  gone.  But  just  a 
moment  ago  I  saw  her  from  afar,  seated  at  the  oratory,  and 
now  she  has  suddenly  disappeared."  The  prince  added :  "  O 
Asraf-el-Kaum,  perhaps,  as  with  the  prophet  Zachariah  (upon 
whom  be  blessings!),  her  prayer  has  been  answered  and  she 
has  entered  this  tree." 

Then  he  offered  this  prayer  to  God  the  most  high  and  worthy. 
of  all  praise :  "  O  God,  if  thou  wilt  permit  that  this  woman 
be  united  to  thy  servant,  then  grant  her  to  him." 

The  prayer  of  the  King  Chah  Djouhou  was  heard,  and  a 
woman  of  dazzling  beauty  appeared  before  his  eyes.  He  de- 
sired to  seize  her,  but  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam  pro- 
nounced these  words :  "  Beware  of  touching  me,  for  I  am  a 
true  believer."  Hearing  these  words  the  King  Chah  Djouhou 
drew  back,  a  little  ashamed.  Then  he  said: 

"  Woman,  what  is  your  country  ?  Whose  child  are  you, 
and  what  is  your  name  ?  " 

The  princess  answered :  "  For  a  long  time  I  have  dwelt 
here,  and  I  have  no  father  nor  mother.  My  name  is  Djouher- 
Manikam." 

The  King,  hearing  these  words  of  the  princess  Djouher- 
Manikam,  took  off  his  cloak  and  gave  it  to  the  princess,  who 
covered  all  her  body  with  it.  Then  she  got  up  and  descended 
to  the  ground.  Then  King  Chah  Djouhou,  dismounting  from 
his  horse,  received  her,  put  her  on  his  horse,  and  took  her  to 
the  country  of  Damas. 

Asraf-el-Kaum  then  said  to  the  King:  "  O  my  lord,  sov- 
ereign of  the  world,  you  made  a  promise  to  your  servant.  Be 
not  careless  nor  forgetful,  my  lord." 

"  Asraf-el-Kaum,  be  not  disturbed.  I  will  fulfil  my  promise 
to  you.  If  it  pleases  God,  when  I  have  arrived  in  our  own 
country,  I  shall  certainly  give  you  all  that  I  promised  you." 
King  Chah  Djouhou  set  out  for  the  country  of  Damas. 

After  a  certain  time  on  the  way,  the  prince  came  to  the  city 
of  Damas  and  entered  his  palace.  He  commanded  one  of  his 
pages  to  summon  the  cadi,  and  a  page  went  promptly  to  call 
him.  The  latter,  in  all  haste,  entered  the  presence  of  the  King. 
Chah  Djouhou  said :  "  O  cadi,  marry  me  to  the  princess 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM  133 

Djouher-Manikam."  And  the  cadi  married  them.  After  the 
celebration  of  the  marriage  the  prince  Chah  Djouhou  gave 
to  Asraf-el-Kaum  1,000  dinars  and  some  of  his  slaves,  both 
men  and  women.  King  Djouhou  and  Princess  Djouher- 
Manikam  were  happy  and  full  of  tenderness  for  each  other. 
Within  a  few  years  the  princess  had  two  sons,  both  very  beau- 
tiful. The  prince  loved  these  children  very  fondly.  But 
above  all  he  loved  his  wife.  He  was  full  of  tender  solicitude 
for  her,  and  bore  himself  with  regard  to  her  with  the  same 
careful  atention  that  a  man  uses  who  carries  oil  in  the  hollow 
of  his  hand.  Some  time  later  Princess  Djouher-Manikam  had 
another  son  of  great  beauty.  The  prince  loved  this  third  child 
tenderly.  He  gave  him  a  great  number  of  nurses  and  gov- 
ernesses, as  is  the  custom  for  the  children  of  the  greatest  kings. 
And  he  never  ceased  to  bestow  upon  him  the  most  watchful 
care. 

It  happened  one  day  that  the  ministers,  the  chiefs,  and  the 
courtiers  of  the  King,  all  gathered  in  his  presence,  were  en- 
joying all  sorts  of  sport  and  amusements.  The  prince  showed 
himself  very  joyous,  and  the  princess  herself  played  and 
amused  herself  with  the  three  children.  Her  countenance 
shone  with  the  brightness  of  rubies;  but  happening  to  think 
of  her  father,  her  mother,  and  her  brother,  she  bega:i  to  weep 
and  said :  "  Alas,  how  unhappy  I  am !  If  my  father,  mother, 
and  brother  could  see  my  three  children,  necessarily  their 
affection  for  me  would  be  greater."  And  the  princess  Djouher- 
Manikam  burst  into  sobs.  The  prince,  who  was  not  far  from 
there,  heard  her,  and  as  the  princess  did  not  stop  weeping  he 
asked  her :  "  O  princess,  why  do  you  weep  thus  ?  What  do 
I  lack  in  your  eyes  ?  Is  it  riches  or  physical  beauty  or  noble 
birth?  Or  is  it  the  spirit  of  justice?  Tell  me  what  is  the 
cause  of  your  tears  ?  " 

Princess  Djouher-Manikam  answered:  Sovereign  of  the 
world,  your  Majesty  has  not  a  single  fault.  Your  riches  equal 
those  of  Haroun.  Your  beauty  equals  that  of  the  prophet 
Joseph  (peace  be  upon  him!).  Your  extraction  equals  that 
of  the  envoy  of  God  (Mahomet).  May  the  benediction  of  God 
and  blessings  rest  upon  him!  Your  justice  equals  that  of 
King  Rouchirouan.  I  don't  see  a  single  fault  in  you,  my 
lord." 


134 


MALAYAN    LITERATURE 


King  Chah  Djouhou  said :  "  If  it  is  thus,  why  then  does 
my  princess  shed  tears  ?  " 

Princess  Djouher-Manikam  answered :  "  If  I  wept  thus 
while  playing  with  my  three  children,  it  is  because  I  thought 
that  if  my  father,  my  mother,  and  my  brother  should  see  my 
three  children,  necessarily  their  affection  for  me  would  be 
greater.  And  that  is  why  I  shed  tears." 

King  Chah  Djouhou  said  to  her:  "  O  my  young  wife,  dear 
princess,  are  your  father  and  mother  still  living?  What  is 
your  father's  name  ?  " 

Princess  Djouher-Manikam  answered,  "  O  my  lord,  my 
father  is  named  Haroun-er-Raschid,  King  of  Bagdad." 

Clasping  her  in  his  arms  and  kissing  her,  the  prince  asked 
her :  "  Why,  until  this  day  have  you  not  told  the  truth  to 
your  husband  ?  " 

And  the  princess  answered :  "  I  wished  to  avow  the  truth, 
but  perhaps  my  lord  would  not  have  had  faith.  It  is  on  ac- 
count of  the  children  that  I  tell  the  truth." 

King  Chah  Djouhou  answered :  "  Since  it  is  so,  it  is  fitting 
that  we  should  start,  and  make  a  visit  upon  King  Haroun-er- 
Raschid." 

He  called  his  ministers,  ordered  them  to  make  all  the 
preparations,  and  commanded  them  to  place  in  order  ingots 
of  gold  and  ingots  of  silver  on  which  were  graven  the  name 
of  King  Haroun-er-Raschid;  and  his  ministers'  vestments 
woven  of  goats'  hair  and  fine  wool,  stuffs  of  price,  many  kinds 
of  superb  precious  stones  of  various  colors,  formed  the  burden 
of  forty  camels,  which  bore  these  presents  to  the  King,  his 
father-in-law,  in  the  city  of  Bagdad. 

During  the  night  Princess  Djouher  thought  in  her  heart: 
"  If  the  two  kings  meet,  there  will  necessarily  be  discord,  and 
at  the  end  separation."  Having  thus  thought  she  said  to  her 
husband :  "  O  sovereign  of  the  world,  do  not  set  out  at  the 
same  time  with  me,  for  in  my  opinion  the  meeting  of  the  two 
kings  would  have  as  a  final  result  a  disagreement.  Permit 
me  therefore  to  start  first  with  the  three  children,  that  I  may 
present  them  to  my  father  and  mother.  Give  the  command 
to  conduct  me  to  the  country  of  Bagdad,  near  my  father,  to 
whomsoever  you  shall  judge  worthy  of  your  confidence  for 
this  mission." 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM  135 

When  the  prince  heard  these  words  of  the  princess  whom 
he  loved  so  tenderly  and  whose  wishes  he  granted,  he  ordered 
his  ministers  and  chiefs  to  arrange  the  transport  of  the  prin- 
cess and  her  children.  Addressing  the  ministers  he  said  as 
follows :  "  O  you  my  ministers,  whom  among  you  can  I 
charge  to  conduct  safely  my  wife  and  three  children  to  Bag- 
dad, near  their  ancestor  King  Haroun-er-Raschid  ?  " 

No  one  among  them  dared  approach  and  speak.  All  held 
silence.  Then  the  prince,  addressing  the  oldest  minister  of  all, 
said: 

"  O  my  minister,  it  is  you  to  whom,  following  the  dictates 
of  my  heart,  I  can  trust  to  accompany  my  wife  and  three  chil- 
dren. For  I  have  always  found  you  loyal  and  faithful  to  me. 
Beside,  you  are  older  than  the  other  ministers.  And  you  have 
the  fear  of  God  the  most  high  and  worthy  of  all  praise  as  well 
as  respect  for  your  King." 

The  minister  said :  "  O  my  lord,  it  is  in  all  sincerity  that 
your  servant  puts  above  his  head  the  commands  of  your 
Majesty.  I  shall  do  my  whole  duty  in  conducting  the  princess 
and  her  children  to  the  King  Haroun-er-Raschid." 

So  the  King  Chah  Djouhou  trusted  his  wife  and  his  three 
children  to  this  perfidious  minister,  reposing  upon  the  promise 
he  had  made.  Forty  camels  were  laden  with  presents,  forty 
nurses  for  the  children,  one  hundred  ladies  in  the  suite  of  the 
princess,  a  thousand  cavaliers,  well  armed  and  well  equipped, 
formed  the  escort.  The  princess  took  leave  of  her  husband. 
He  held  her  clasped  in  his  arms,  and,  weeping,  covered  her 
and  his  three  children  with  kisses.  He  bade  her  to  present  his 
homage  to  her  father  the  Sultan  Haroun-er-Raschid,  his  salu- 
tations to  her  elder  brother  Minbah-Chahaz,  and  to  place  at 
the  feet  of  their  majesties  a  thousand  and  a  thousand  apologies, 
and  to  make  his  excuses  to  her  brother  Minbah-Chahaz. 
Then  the  prince  said  to  the  wicked  minister : 

"  O  my  minister,  you  must  go  now,  and  lead  the  camel  of 
my  wife,  for  I  have  perfect  confidence  in  you.  Above  all, 
guard  her  well." 

But  the  King  did  not  lean  upon  God  the  most  high  and 
worthy  of  all  praise,  and  that  is  why  God  punished  him. 

When  the  prince  had  finished  speaking  to  the  minister  the 
latter  said :  "  O  my  lord,  King  of  the  world,  your  servant 


136  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

bears  your  command  on  his  head."  So  the  cavalcade  started 
on  the  march.  Princess  Djouher-Manikam  mounted  her 
camel  with  her  three  children.  A  body-guard  held  the  van. 
She  proceeded  accompanied  by  the  wretched  minister  and  all 
the  escort,  wending  from  day  to  day  toward  the  city  of  Bag- 
dad. They  had  reached  one  of  the  halting-places  when  day 
was  turning  into  night.  The  minister  then  erected  a  tent 
so  that  the  princess  might  repose  in  it.  The  people  put  up 
their  tents  all  about.  Princess  Djouher-Manikam  dismounted 
from  her  camel  and  entered  the  tent,  with  her  three  children. 
The  tents  of  the  nurses  and  ladies-in-waiting  surrounded  the 
tent  of  the  princess  in  a  circle.  In  the  middle  of  the  night 
a  violent  rain  began  to  fall.  Then  the  wretched  minister, 
stirred  by  Satan,  was  stirred  in  his  heart.  He  thought :  "  The 
King's  wife  is  most  beautiful ;  beautiful,  indeed,  as  her  name, 
Djouher-Manikam.  I  must  marry  her." 

So  the  rebel  minister  started,  and  entered  the  tent  of  the 
princess,  and  asked  her  to  marry  him.  He  found  her  seated 
by  her  three  children,  occupied  in  chasing  away  the  mosqui- 
toes. When  the  princess  saw  him  enter  her  tent  she  asked 
him :  "  O  my  minister,  what  brings  you  to  my  tent  at  this 
hour  in  the  middle  of  the  night  ?  " 

The  minister  answered,  "  I  have  come  to  beg  you  to  marry 
me." 

The  princess  then  said :  "  Is  that  what  brings  you  here  ? 
And  it  was  to  you  that  the  King  intrusted  me  on  account  of 
your  great  age,  and  as  if  you  were  my  father.  It  was  in  you 
that  he  put  all  his  confidence  that  you  would  take  us  safely, 
me  and  my  children,  to  my  venerable  father,  King  Haroun-er- 
Raschid.  What  must  be  your  nature,  that  you  should  so  be- 
tray his  trust  ?  " 

The  wretched  minister  replied :  "  If  you  refuse  to  marry 
me,  I  will  kill  your  children." 

"  Never,"  said  the  princess,  "  never  shall  I  consent  to  marry 
you.  And  if  you  kill  my  children,  what  can  I  do  against  the 
decree  of  God,  save  to  invoke  his  name  ?  " 

The  minister  killed  one  of  the  children.  When  it  was  dead, 
he  made  the  same  demand  on  the  princess  for  the  second  time, 
and  she  answered :  "  Never  shall  I  consent  to  marry  you." 

The  minister  said :  "  If  you  refuse,  I  shall  kill  another  of 
your  children." 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM  137 

The  Princess  Djouher-Manikam  answered :  "  If  you  slay 
my  child,  it  is  by  the  decree  of  God,  and  I  submit  to  his  will." 

The  minister  killed  the  second  child. 

"  No,"  repeated  the  princess.  "  Never  shall  I  consent  to 
wed  you." 

The  wretched  minister  said :  "  Then  I  will  kill  your  third 
child." 

"  If  you  kill  him,  what  can  I  do  but  to  submit  to  the 
will  of  God,  and  invoke  his  name  ?  "  The  third  son  of  the 
King  was  killed. 

Questioned  anew,  the  princess  said  again,  "  Neve"  shall  I 
marry  you." 

And  the  wicked  minister  said :  "  If  you  will  not  marry  me, 
I  will  kill  you,  too." 

Then  the  princess  thought  in  her  heart :  "  If  I  do  not  ap- 
pear to  yield,  he  will  kill  me,  too,  without  a  doubt.  I  must 
employ  a  trick."  Then  she  said :  "  Await  me  here,  until  I 
wash  from  my  clothes  and  my  body  the  stains  of  my  children's 
blood." 

The  minister  accursed  of  God  replied :  "  Very  well.  I 
await  you  here." 

Then  the  princess  Djouher  went  out  of  her  tent.  The  rain 
was  falling  in  torrents.  The  princess,  fleeing  precipitately, 
walked  during  the  whole  night,  not  knowing  where  she  was 
going.  She  had  walked  many  hours  when  day  broke.  The 
princess  arrived  thus  near  a  tree  in  the  midst  of  the  plain,  and, 
having  measured  its  height  with  her  eyes,  she  climbed  into  it. 
At  this  moment  there  passed  along  the  road  a  merchant  who 
had  made  his  sales  and  was  returning  to  the  city  of  Bassrah. 
His  name  was  Biyapri.  Passing  beneath  the  tree  he  raised 
his  eyes  and  beheld  a  woman  seated  in  the  tree. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  said ;  "  are  you  woman  or  djinn  ?  " 

"  I  am  neither  demon  nor  djinn,  but  a  descendant  of  the 
prophet  of  God  (may  blessings  rest  upon  him),  a  disciple  of  the 
prophet  Mahomet,  envoy  of  God." 

Biyapri  climbed  up  the  tree,  put  her  on  his  camel,  and  tak- 
ing up  his  journey  conducted  her  to  the  country  of  Bassrah. 
Arriving  at  his  house  he  desired  to  marry  her.  But  she  put 
him  off  saying :  "  Wait,  for  I  have  made  a  solemn  vow  before 
God  not  to  look  upon  the  face  of  a  man  for  forty  days.  When 


138  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

the  time  expires,  that  will  be  possible.  But  if  these  forty  days 
have  not  yet  run  I  should  surely  die."  So  Biyapri  installed 
her  on  his  latticed  roof  and  lavished  attention  and  care  upon 
her. 

Immediately  after  the  flight  of  the  princess  Djouher-Mani- 
kam  the  minister  commanded  the  whole  escort  to  return  and 
present  itself  to  the  King  Chah  Djouhou.  He  said  to  his 
people :  "  O  all  your  servants  of  the  Queen,  see  what  has  been 
her  conduct.  Her  three  children  are  dead,  and  it  is  she  who 
killed  them.  After  that  she  disappeared.  Where  has  she 
taken  refuge  ?  Nobody  in  the  world  knows  that.  As  for  you, 
depart,  bear  the  bodies  of  his  three  children  to  King  Chah 
Djouhou,  and  tell  him  all  the  circumstances." 

Arriving  in  the  presence  of  the  King,  they  reported  all  the 
circumstances  of  the  minister's  treachery  toward  the  princess, 
and  the  murder  of  his  three  children.  They  added  that  the 
minister  had  departed,  leaving  word  that  he  had  gone  to  find 
the  princess,  and  had  taken  with  him  his  own  three  sons,  forty 
soldiers,  and  the  treasure. 

When  the  prince  had  heard  these  words  he  was  struck  with 
a  stupor.  But  his  sorrow  at  having  let  the  princess  go  with- 
out him  was  useless.  He  caused  the  three  young  princes  to 
be  buried.  The  King  shed  tears,  and  all  the  people  of  the 
household  filled  the  air  with  cries  and  sobs,  so  that  the  noise 
seemed  like  the  bursts  of  thunder,  while  the  funeral  ceremonies 
were  proceeding  according  to  the  customs  of  the  greatest 
kings.  After  that  the  King  descended  from  his  royal  throne 
and  became  a  dervish,  the  better  to  seek  in  all  lands  his  well- 
beloved  spouse.  He  had  with  him  three  slaves  only.  One 
of  them  was  named  Hestri. 

"  Go,"  he  said  to  him,  "  go  seek  your  mistress  in  all  coun- 
tries." And  he  gave  him  a  horse  and  some  provisions. 

Hestri  said :  "  May  your  Majesty  be  happy !  O  lord, 
King  of  the  world,  whatever  be  your  commands,  your  servant 
places  them  upon  his  head."  Hestri  bowed  low,  then  mounted 
his  horse  and  rode  away  toward  the  city  of  Bassrah. 

After  proceeding  some  time  he  reached  Bassrah,  and  passed 
by  the  house  of  Biyapri.  At  this  very  moment  the  princess 
Djouher-Manikam  was  sitting  on  the  roof  of  Biyapri's  house. 
She  looked  attentively  at  the  face  of  Hestri  as  he  was  passing 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM  139 

by  the  house  and  called  to  him  saying :  "  Hestri,  what  brings 
you  here  ?  " 

Hestri,  casting  his  glance  toward  the  roof,  saw  the  princess 
Djouher-Manikam  and  said  to  her :  "  I  was  sent  by  your  hus- 
band to  seek  you,  princess." 

She  replied :  "  Go  away,  for  the  present.  Come  back 
when  it  is  night.  As  it  is  broad  daylight  now  I  fear  lest 
Biyapri  should  discover  our  departure." 

Hestri,  bowing  low,  replied,  "  Very  well,  princess."  He 
walked  here  and  there,  waiting  till  night  should  come.  When 
it  was  dark  he  returned  to  the  house  of  Biyapri  and  waited  a 
few  minutes.  Then  he  called  the  princess.  • 

"  Wait,"  she  said,  "  for  Biyapri  is  still  watching."  Hestri 
stooped  down,  and  fell  asleep  near  Biyapri's  house,  having 
first  of  all  tied  the  bridle  of  the  horse  to  his  girdle. 

The  princess  Djouher-Manikam  descended  from  the  roof, 
and  mounted  the  horse  while  Hestri  was  yet  sleeping.  She 
sat  on  the  horse  waiting  till  Hestri  should  awake.  But  an 
^Ethiopian  robber,  who  had  come  to  rob  the  storehouse  of 
Biyapri,  saw  the  horse  whose  bridle  was  attached  to  the  belt 
of  Hestri.  He  unfastened  the  bridle  and  led  the  horse  to  the 
middle  of  the  plain.  In  the  mind  of  the  princess  it  was  Hestri 
who  was  thus  leading  the  horse.  But  the  moon  having  risen, 
the  Ethiopian  saw  seated  upon  the  horse  a  woman  of  a  strik- 
ing and  marvellous  beauty.  The  heart  of  the  Ethiopian  was 
filled  with  joy.  He  said  in  his  heart : 

"  For  a  very  long  time  have  I  been  stealing  riches.  Truly, 
I  have  acquired  no  small  store  of  jewels,  pearls,  precious 
stones,  gold  and  silver,  and  magnificent  vestments  of  all  sorts. 
But  all  that  is  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  marvel  I  have 
just  now  found  and  who  will  become  my  wife,  the  light  of  my 
eyes,  and  the  fruit  of  my  heart.  Now  shall  I  enjoy  in  peace 
the  happiness  of  having  such  a  wife." 

The  house  of  the  Ethiopian  robber  was  seated  on  the  top 
of  a  hill.  He  conducted  the  princess  thither,  showed  her  all 
it  contained,  and  gave  it  to  her,  saying :  "  O  my  future  bride, 
it  is  to  you  that  all  which  this  house  contains  belongs.  Make 
use  of  it  according  to  your  good  pleasure."  The  princess  said, 
"  First  of  all,  be  tranquil."  And  she  thought  in  her  heart : 
"This  is  my  destiny.  First  I  was  with  Biyapri,  and  now  I 


140 


MALAYAN    LITERATURE 


have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  an  Ethiopian  robber.  It  is  by 
the  will  of  God  that  this  has  happened  to  his  servant."  The 
./Ethiopian  robber  was  bent  on  having  the  marriage  celebrated 
at  once,  but  the  princess  said :  "  I  cannot  be  married  now,  for 
I  have  made  a  vow  to  God  the  most  high  not  to  see  the  face 
of  a  man  for  three  days." 

The  ^Ethiopian  robber  desired  to  drink,  and  said :  "  Come, 
let  us  drink  together." 

"  In  my  opinion,"  observed  the  princess,  "  if  we  begin  to 
drink  both  together  you  will  become  heavy  with  wine,  and 
I,  too.  Then  they  will  take  me  far  from  you  and  kill  you. 
Come,  I  will  fill  your  cup  and  you  shall  drink  first.  When 
you  have  drunk  enough,  then  I  will  drink  in  my  turn,  and  you 
shall  fill  my  cup." 

The  Ethiopian  robber  was  very  joyful  at  these  words  of 
the  princess.  "  What  you  say  is  true,"  said  he.  He  received 
with  great  pleasure  the  cup  from  the  hands  of  the  princess 
and  drank.  After  emptying  the  cup  many  times  he  fell  down 
in  the  stupor  of  intoxication,  losing  his  senses  and  becoming 
like  a  dead  man.  The  princess  Djouher-Manikam  put  on  a 
magnificent  costume  of  a  man,  and  adding  a  weapon  some- 
thing like  a  kandjar,  went  out  of  the  house.  Then  mounting 
her  horse  she  rode  forward  quickly  and  came  to  the  foot  of 
the  hill.  She  directed  her  course  toward  the  country  of  Roum, 
and  continuing  her  journey  from  forest  to  forest,  and  from 
plain  to  plain,  she  reached  the  gate  of  the  fortifications  of  the 
city  of  Roum  at  the  moment  when  the  King  of  that  country 
had  just  died. 

When  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam  had  arrived  outside 
the  fortifications  of  Roum,  she  sat  down  in  the  baley,  near  the 
fort.  She  was  marvellously  beautiful,  and  her  vestments,  all 
sparkling  with  gold,  were  adorned  with  precious  stones, 
pearls,  and  rubies.  A  man  happening  to  pass  by  saw  her,  and 
was  seized  with  astonishment  and  admiration.  For  in  the 
country  of  Roum  there  was  nobody  who  could  compare  with 
this  young  man,  so  handsome  and  so  magnificently  attired. 
He  asked: 

"  Whence  come  you  and  why  did  you  come  here  ?  " 

The  princess  answered :  "  I  know  not  the  place  where  I 
am  at  this  moment.  I  came  from  the  city  of  Damas." 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM  I4i 

This  citizen  of  Roum  took  leave  and  went  away  to  present 
himself  to  the  vezir  and  tell  what  he  had  seen.  The  vezir, 
having  heard  him,  went  out  promptly  to  find  the  young  man. 
As  soon  as  he  had  approached  him  and  had  seen  his  remark- 
able beauty  and  his  splendid  vestments  decorated  with  pre- 
cious stones,  pearls,  and  rubies,  the  vezir  seated  himself  by 
him  and  said : 

"  Young  man,  whence  do  you  come,  and  why  did  you  come 
to  this  land  ?  " 

The  princess  answered :  "  I  wish  to  travel  through  the  world 
for  my  pleasure.  That  is  my  will." 

The  vezir  replied :  "  Would  you  like  to  have  us  make  you 
King  of  this  country  ?  "  The  princess  replied :  "  For  what  rea- 
son should  I  wish  to  be  king  in  this  country?  And  by  what 
means  could  it  be  achieved  ?  " 

The  vezir  replied :  "  Our  King  is  dead." 

"  Is  there  no  child  ?  "  asked  the  princess. 

"  The  King  has  left  a  child,"  answered  the  vezir,  "  but 
he  is  still  very  little,  and  incapable  of  governing  his  subjects. 
That  is  why  we  will  make  you  King  of  this  country." 

The  princess  Djouher-Manikam  answered :  "  Why  not  ? 
What  prevents?  If  you  all  will  follow  my  counsel  I  will  ac- 
cept the  throne  of  this  country." 

The  ministers  said,  "  And  why  should  we  not  follow  the 
commands  of  my  lord  ?  " 

The  vezir  conducted  her  to  the  palace.  All  the  ministers 
of  state  and  the  high  officers  assembled  to  proclaim  as  their 
king  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam.  That  done,  the  princess 
took  the  name  of  Radja  Chah  Djouhou. 

After  reigning  some  time  her  spirit  of  justice  and  her  per- 
fect equity  in  the  government  of  her  subjects  rendered  her 
name  celebrated  in  all  the  foreign  countries.  Radja  Chah 
Djouhou  said  to  her  minister: 

"  O  minister,  have  built  for  me  a  baley  outside  the  fort/' 
And  the  ministers  and  the  officers  commanded  them  in  haste 
to  construct  the  baley.  As  soon  as  it  was  built  they  came  to 
announce  it  to  the  King.  The  latter  said : 

"  O  my  vezir,  is  there  in  my  kingdom  a  man  who  knows 
how  to  paint  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  lord,  king  of  the  world,  there  is  a  very  skilful 
painter  here." 


I42  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

"  Let  him  come  to  me." 

"  Immediately,  my  lord,"  said  the  vezir,  and  he  ordered  a 
slave  to  go  and  summon  the  painter.  The  painter  came  in  all 
haste  and  entered  the  presence  of  Radja  Chah  Djouhou,  bow- 
ing his  head  to  the  floor.  The  prince  said  to  him : 

"  O  painter,  have  you  a  daughter  who  knows  how  to 
paint  ?  " 

The  painter  answered :  "  Yes,  my  lord,  king  of  the  world, 
I  have  a  daughter  very  skilful  in  the  art  of  painting." 

"  Tell  your  child  to  come  here." 

The  painter  bowed  again  and  went  to  find  his  daughter. 
"  O  my  child,"  he  said,  "  the  fruit  of  my  heart,  come,  the  King 
calls  you." 

Then  the  painter's  daughter  quickly  set  out,  accompanied 
by  her  father.  They  together  entered  the  presence  of  the 
King,  who  was  still  surrounded  by  his  ministers  and  his  offi- 
cers. The  painter  and  his  daughter  bowed  their  heads  to  the 
floor.  The  prince  said: 

"  Painter,  is  this  your  daughter  ?  " 

"  O  my  lord,  king  of  the  world,  yes,  this  is  my  daughter." 

"  Come  with  me  into  the  interior  of  the  palace."  And  at 
the  same  time  the  prince  started  and  entered  his  apartments, 
followed  by  the  daughter  of  the  painter.  He  led  the  way  to  a 
retired  place,  and  said :  "  My  daughter,  make  my  portrait,  I 
pray  you,  and  try  to  have  the  resemblance  good."  Then  the 
princess  Djouher-Manikam  clothed  herself  in  woman's  rai- 
ment, and  in  this  costume  she  was  ravishingly  beautiful.  That 
done,  she  commanded  the  artist  to  paint  her  thus.  She  suc- 
ceeded perfectly  and  the  portrait  was  a  remarkable  likeness, 
for  the  daughter  of  the  painter  was  very  skilful.  When  her 
work  was  finished  she  received  a  large  sum  in  gold.  The 
prince  said  to  her : 

"  Come,  sister,  let  this  remain  a  secret.  Reveal  it  not  to 
anyone  in  the  world.  If  you  tell  it  I  will  slay  you,  with  your 
father  and  your  mother." 

The  daughter  of  the  painter  said :  "  O  my  lord,  king  of  the 
world,  how  could  your  servant  disobey  your  Majesty's  com- 
mands ?  "  She  bowed  low,  and  asked  permission  to  go  home. 

Radja  Chah  Djouhou,  in  the  presence  of  his  ministers  and 
his  subjects,  said  to  the  vizier:  "  O  vizier,  place  this  portrait 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM  143 

in  the  baley  outside  the  fort,  and  have  it  guarded  by  forty  men. 
If  anyone  coming  to  this  portrait  begins  to  weep  or  kiss  it, 
seize  him  and  bring  him  before  me."  The  portrait  hung  in 
the  baley,  and  the  vezir  ordered  an  officer  to  guard  it  with 
forty  soldiers. 

When  the  Ethiopian  robber  came  out  of  his  drunken  slum- 
ber he  saw  that  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam  was  no  longer 
in  his  house.  So  he  went  out-of-doors  weeping,  and  took  up 
his  journey,  going  from  country  to  country  until  he  arrived 
at  the  city  of  Roum.  There  he  saw  a  baley,  and  hanging  there 
a  portrait  which  bore  a  perfect  resemblance  to  the  princess 
Djouher-Manikam.  Quickly  he  climbed  to  the  baley,  and, 
holding  the  portrait  in  his  arms,  he  wept  and  covered  it  with 
kisses. 

"  O  unhappy  man  that  I  am !  Here  is  the  portrait  of  my 
well-beloved  for  whom  I  was  seeking.  Where  can  she  be  ?  " 

The  guards  of  the  baley,  seeing  the  act  of  the  ^Ethiopian, 
seized  him  and  bore  him  before  the  King.  They  told  the 
deed. 

The  prince  said :  "  ^Ethiopian  robber,  why  did  you  act  thus 
in  reference  to  this  picture  ?  " 

The  ^-Ethiopian  answered :  "  O  my  lord,  king  of  the  world, 
I  ask  you  a  thousand  and  a  thousand  pardons.  Your  servant 
will  tell  the  truth.  If  they  kill  me  I  shall  die ;  if  they  hang  me 
I  shall  be  lifted  very  high ;  if  they  sell  me  I  shall  be  carried 
very  far  away.  O  king  of  the  world,  hear  the  words  of  your 
humble  slave.  A  certain  night  I  had  started  out  to  rob.  I 
found  a  horse,  and  on  its  back  there  was  a  woman  of  the  most 
marvellous  beauty.  I  took  her  to  my  house.  I  fell  asleep  in 
my  cups.  My  beloved  one  disappeared.  I  became  mad,  and 
so  it  is,  O  king  of  the  world,  that  your  slave  came  to  the  fort 
and  saw  the  portrait  hanging  at  the  baley.  This  portrait  is  the 
faithful  picture  of  my  well-beloved.  That  is  why  I  weep." 

The  prince  said :  "  O  my  vezir,  let  this  man  be  carefully 
guarded.  Treat  him  well  and  give  him  plenty  to  eat."  On 
the  other  hand,  Biyapri,  after  forty  days,  mounting  the  roof, 
saw  that  the  princess  Djouher  was  no  longer  there.  He  be- 
came mad,  abandoned  his  house  and  all  his  wealth,  and,  be- 
coming a  dervish,  went  from  country  to  country  seeking  the 
princess  Djouher-Manikam,  without  ever  finding  her.  Com- 


I44  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

ing  to  the  country  of  Roum  he  saw  the  baley  situated  out- 
side the  fort,  and  stopped  there.  Then  he  saw  the  portrait, 
and,  observing  it  with  the  closest  attention,  he  began  to  weep. 
Then  he  took  it  in  his  arms  and  covered  it  with  kisses. 

"  Alas,  my  well-beloved !  "  he  cried,  "  here  indeed  is  your 
picture,  but  where  can  I  find  you  ?  "  He  was  immediately 
seized  by  the  guard  and  led  before  the  King  of  Roum. 

"  Biyapri,"  said  the  prince,  "  whence  do  you  come,  and  why 
did  you  act  thus  ?  "  Biyapri  answered :  "  O  my  lord,  king  of 
the  world,  your  slave  asks  pardon  a  thousand  and  a  thousand 
times.  I  will  tell  the  whole  truth.  If  they  kill  me,  I  shall  die ; 
if  they  hang  me,  I  shall  be  lifted  very  high ;  if  they  sell  me,  I 
shall  be  taken  very  far  away.  When  I  was  engaged  in  com- 
merce I  passed  under  a  tree,  and  saw  that  in  this  tree  there 
was  a  woman  of  the  most  marvellous  beauty.  I  took  her  and 
carried  her  to  the  city  of  Bassrah  and  installed  her  on  the  roof 
of  my  storehouse.  A  certain  night  she  disappeared  without 
my  knowing  where  she  had  gone.  Then,  O  king  of  the  world, 
I  became  as  one  mad  and  left  my  native  land.  Arriving  at 
the  country  of  Roum  I  saw  a  baley  outside  the  fort  and  came 
to  sit  down  there.  Then,  my  lord,  I  saw  the  portrait  hanging 
at  the  baley.  It  exactly  resembles  my  beloved,  whom  I  lost. 
I  pressed  it  in  my  arms  and  covered  it  with  kisses.  Such  is 
the  truth,  O  king  of  the  world." 

The  prince  then  said  to  his  minister :  "  O  minister,  let  this 
man  be  carefully  guarded  and  give  him  food  and  clothes." 

The  King  of  Damas,  after  abdicating  the  throne,  had  left 
his  kingdom,  and  in  the  costume  of  a  dervish  had  started  to 
travel  through  the  different  countries.  Arriving  at  Roum,  the 
King  Chah  Djouhou  saw  a  baley  situated  outside  of  the  fort, 
and  went  to  sit  down  near  it.  The  prince  looking  closely  at 
the  portrait,  which  was  exactly  like  the  princess  Djouher- 
Manikam,  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears  and  exclaimed : 

"  Alas !  Fruit  of  my  heart,  my  well-beloved,  light  of  my 
eyes !  It  is,  indeed,  your  picture.  But  you,  whom  I  seek,  oh, 
where  are  you  ?  " 

Speaking  thus,  the  prince  took  the  portrait  in  his  arms  and 
covered  it  with  kisses.  Seeing  this,  the  guards  of  the  baley 
seized  him  and  carried  him  before  the  King. 

The  King  said  to  him :   "  My  lord,  whence  do  you  come  ? 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM  145 

How  have  you  wandered  into  this  country  ?  And  why  did  you 
behave  thus  about  my  portrait  ?  " 

The  King  Chah  Djouhou  answered:  "  Know  that  my  wife, 
who  is  named  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam,  has  disappeared 
far  from  me.  It  is  for  that  reason  that  I  have  left  my  king- 
dom, and  that  I,  dressed  as  a  dervish,  have  walked  from  coun- 
try to  country,  from  plain  to  plain,  from  village  to  village, 
seeking  her  whom  I  have  never  been  able  to  find.  But  ar- 
riving in  your  Majesty's  country  I  saw  hanging  at  the  baley 
that  portrait,  which  is  of  a  striking  resemblance  to  my 
wife.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  I  wept  in  contemplating  this 
picture." 

The  princess  smiled,  and  at  the  same  time  her  heart  was 
softened  at  seeing  the  conduct  of  her  husband.  She  said  to 
her  prime  minister :  "  O  my  minister,  I  confide  this  person  to 
your  care.  Treat  him  worthily,  give  him  the  best  of  food  and 
a  suite  of  attendants.  He  is  the  King  of  Damas." 

The  minister  therefore,  by  command  of  the  princess,  de- 
parted and  conducted  the  King  of  Damas  to  a  fine  house,  fur- 
nished and  equipped  according  to  the  needs  of  kings. 

The  minister  took  all  the  riches  which  had  been  intended 
as  presents  for  the  King  Haroun-er-Raschid.  The  ingots  of 
gold  and  of  silver,  the  rich  garments  in  fine  stuffs  of  the  coun- 
try of  Rouzoungga,  as  well  as  the  vestments  of  the  princess 
Djouher-Manikam  and  of  her  three  children,  were  transported 
and  sold  in  the  city  of  Bagdad.  But  the  King  Haroun-er- 
Raschid,  seeing  that  his  name  and  that  of  his  daughter,  the 
princess  Djouher-Manikam,  were  graven  on  these  ingots  of 
gold  and  silver,  seized  all  these  riches. 

The  minister  of  the  country  of  Damas  said,  "  These  riches 
are  mine." 

On  his  side  the  King  Haroun-er-Raschid  said:  "These 
riches  are  mine,  for  my  name  and  that  of  my  child  are  en- 
graved on  these  ingots  of  gold  and  silver." 

The  minister  said,  "  Since  your  Majesty  declares  that  these 
treasures  are  yours,  we  must  try  this  case  in  a  court  of  jus- 
tice." 

The  King  of  Bagdad  answered :  "  It  is  well.  We  will  go 
wherever  you  wish." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  minister ;  "  let  us  go  then  before  the 
10 


I46  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

King  of  the  country  of  Roum.  That  prince  has  the  reputation 
of  being  extremely  just.  Each  of  us  shall  plead  his  cause." 

The  prince  answered :  "  It  is  well."  The  minister  replied : 
"  O  king  of  the  world,  let  us  start  without  delay." 

So  the  King  Haroun-er-Raschid  set  out  with  his  son  Min- 
bah-Chahaz,  his  chief  warrior,  and  his  soldiers.  The  cadi  ac- 
companied the  prince.  On  his  side,  the  minister  of  the  coun- 
try of  Damas  started,  accompanied  by  his  three  sons  and 
forty  soldiers  of  the  country  of  Damas.  After  proceeding 
some  time,  they  arrived  at  the  city  of  Roum  and  entered  the 
fortifications.  Each  one  of  them  presented  himself  before  the 
King  and  pleaded  his  cause. 

The  King  Haroun-er-Raschid  expressed  himself  as  follows : 
"  O  king  of  the  world !  I  present  myself  before  your  Majesty 
to  ask  your  impartial  judgment.  The  minister  of  the  country 
of  Damas  brought  to  Bagdad,  among  other  precious  objects, 
ingots  of  gold  and  ingots  of  silver,  on  which  are  engraved  my 
name  and  that  of  my  daughter,  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam. 
I  seized  these,  and  come  to  your  Majesty  to  decide  my  claim 
to  them." 

The  King  of  Roum  said :  "  If  it  pleases  God  the  most  high, 
this  affair  shall  be  judged  with  the  best  of  my  powers."  The 
King  of  Roum  continued :  "  My  officers  and  you,  my  minis- 
ters and  chiefs,  seek  all  the  divine  inspiration  to  decide  the 
difference  existing  between  the  King  of  Bagdad  and  the  min- 
ister of  Damas." 

The  officers  bowed  low  and  said :  "  O  my  lord,  king  of  the 
world,  whatever  they  may  be,  we  shall  put  the  commands  of 
your  Majesty  above  our  heads  and  shall  carry  them  out  to 
the  letter."  And  they  deliberated  on  the  character  of  the  dis- 
pute. 

The  King  of  Bagdad  declared :  "  These  objects  are  precious 
to  me,  for  they  bear  engraven  upon  them  the  names  of  myself 
and  my  child." 

On  the  other  hand,  and  at  the  same  time,  the  minister 
Damas  declared,  "  These  precious  objects  are  mine." 

The  ministers  and  chiefs  were  very  much  embarrassed,  and 
said  to  the  King :  "  O  king  of  the  world,  we,  all  of  us,  are 
unable  to  judge  this  dispute.  It  is  too  difficult  for  us.  Only 
the  impartial  judgment  of  your  Majesty  can  decide  it." 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM  147 

The  prince  said :  "  It  is  well.  I  will  pronounce  sentence, 
if  it  please  God  the  most  high,  provided  that  you  consent  to 
accept  it." 

The  King  of  Bagdad  answered :  "  O  king  of  the  world, 
judge  between  us  according  to  your  impartial  justice." 

The  King  of  Roum  then  said :  "  O  minister  of  Damas,  and 
you,  King  of  Bagdad,  is  it  the  wish  of  both  of  you  that  I 
should  give  judgment  according  to  the  judgment  of  God  the 
most  high  ?  " 

And  they  both  answered :  "  That  is  what  we  ask,  the  judg- 
ment of  God." 

The  prince  replied :  "  If  you  consent  on  both  sides,  it  is 
well." 

"  I  consent  to  it,"  said  the  minister  of  Damas. 

"  And  I,  too,"  said  the  King  of  Bagdad. 

The  King  of  Roum  then  spoke  in  these  terms :  "  In  con- 
formity with  the  law  of  the  most  high  God,  I  ask  this  ques- 
tion of  the  King  of  Bagdad :  Have  you  a  daughter  ?  " 

The  King  of  Bagdad  replied :  "  Yes,  king  of  the  world, 
I  have  a  daughter  and  a  son." 

"  And  have  you  at  present  these  two  children  ?  " 

The  King  of  Bagdad  answered :  "  I  have  my  son,  but  my 
daughter — I  lost  her." 

The  King  of  Roum,  continuing,  said :  "  What  is  the  cause 
of  the  loss  of  your  daughter  ? "  The  King  of  Bagdad  an- 
swered :  "  O  king  of  the  world,  hear  my  story.  While  I  was 
gone  on  a  pilgrimage  with  my  wife  and  my  son,  whose  name 
is  Minbah-Chahaz,  I  left  my  daughter  to  watch  over  my  pal- 
ace. Arriving  at  the  end  of  my  pilgrimage,  I  sent  home  a  let- 
ter to  the  cadi,  conceived  as  follows :  '  May  peace  be  with  the 
cadi :  I  shall  wait  still  for  the  grand  pilgrimage  about  a  year 
longer.  As  for  all  that  concerns  my  kingdom,  my  palace, 
and  my  daughter,  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam,  watch  with 
greatest  cere,  and  beware  of  any  negligence  in  the  protection 
of  my  kingdom  and  my  child.'  Some  time  later  the  cadi  sent 
me  a  letter  at  Mecca,  couched  in  these  words :  '  O  king  of  the 
world,  your  servant  has  received  the  command  to  watch  over 
the  palace  and  the  princess.  But  the  princess  now  desires  to 
marry  me.'  After  I  had  read  the  letter  from  the  cadi  I  called 
my  son  Minbah-Chahaz,  and  said  to  him :  '  Start  at  once  for 


148  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

Bagdad,  and  slay  your  sister.'  My  son  Minbah-Chahaz 
started  immediately  for  Bagdad,  and  killed  his  sister.  Then 
he  returned  and  found  me  at  Mecca.  His  cutlass  was  still 
blood-stained.  Then  I  cried :  '  Praise  be  to  God  the  Lord  of 
the  universe,  our  shame  is  effaced/  Such  is  my  story,  O  king 
of  the  world." 

The  King  of  Roum  said :  "  It  is  well.  Now  I  shall  pro- 
nounce judgment."  And  addressing  the  minister  of  Damas 
he  said  to  him :  "  O  minister  of  Damas,  tell  me  the  truth  if 
you  wish  that  at  the  day  of  judgment  the  prophet  should  in- 
tercede for  you  (may  the  peace  and  blessings  of  God  be  upon 
him!).  Speak  and  tell  the  truth.  Say  whence  come  these 
riches,  in  order  that  I  may  pronounce  my  judgment  between 
you." 

The  minister  of  the  King  of  Damas  said :  "  O  my  lord,  king 
of  the  world,  I  will  lay  at  the  foot  of  your  Majesty's  throne 
the  completed  story  from  the  beginning.  I  received  a  mis- 
sion from  the  King  Chah  Djouhou :  '  O  my  minister,'  he  said, 
*  start,  I  send  you  to  the  city  of  Bagdad,  taking  my  three  chil- 
dren to  their  grandfather,  and  my  wife,  the  princess  Djouher- 
Manikam,  to  her  mother  and  her  father,  the  King  Haroun- 
er-Raschid.'  I  set  out,  therefore,  with  the  escort  which  ac- 
companied the  princess  Djouher-Manikam,  and  we  arrived 
at  our  first  halting-place.  When  it  was  night  I  erected  a  tent, 
and  the  people  of  the  escort  all  put  up  tents  around  that  of  the 
princess.  But  Satan  breathed  into  my  heart  a  temptation. 
This  thought  came  to  me :  '  The  wife  of  the  King  is  wonder- 
fully beautiful,  and  she  has  such  a  pretty  name !  I  will  go  and 
ask  her  to  marry  me.'  So  I  entered  her  tent.  At  that  moment 
she  was  seated  by  her  sleeping  children,  occupied  in  keeping 
away  the  mosquitoes.  The  princess  demanded,  '  O  my  minis- 
ter, why  do  you  come  here  ? '  And  I  answered,  *  I  have  come 
to  ask  you  to  marry  me.'  The  princess  said :  '  Have  you 
no  fear  of  God  the  most  high?  No,  I  cannot  marry  you. 
What  would  become  of  me  if  I  should  do  such  a  thing  ? '  Then 
I  said,  '  If  you  will  not  agree  to  marry  me,  I  will  kill  one  of 
your  children.'  The  princess  answered :  '  If  you  kill  my  child 
it  will  be  by  the  judgment  of  God,  and  what  can  I  do  but  to 
invoke  his  name  ?  '  Then  I  killed  one  of  the  children.  When 
he  was  dead  I  asked  again  if  she  would  marry  me,  and  I  killed 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM  149 

another  of  the  children.  When  this  one  was  dead  I  asked  the 
same  question.  The  princess  answered,  '  I  cannot  marry 
when  I  am  already  married.'  I  said  to  her,  '  If  you  will  not, 
then  I  will  kill  the  third  of  your  children.'  The  princess 
Djouher-Manikam  answered,  '  If  you  kill  my  third  child,  it 
will  be  by  the  judgment  of  God,  and  what  can  I  do  but  invoke 
his  name,  for  I  am  only  a  woman  ?  '  So  I  killed  the  third  child. 
After  the  death  of  this  last  child  of  the  King,  I  put  again  my 
question  to  the  princess.  She  would  not  cor  sent  to  marry 
me.  I  said  to  her,  '  If  you  don't,  I  will  kill  you.'  She  an- 
swered :  '  If  you  kill  me,  it  is  the  decree  of  God.  But  wait 
awhile,  for  I  wish  to  wash  my  garments  and  cleanse  the  traces 
of  my  children's  blood  from  my  body.'  I  said, '  It  is  well.  We 
will  have  the  wedding-feast  to-morrow.'  She  left  the  tent.  It 
was  raining  in  torrents.  I  could  not  discover  where  she  went. 
Such  is  my  story,  O  king  of  the  world." 

The  King  said,  "  Minister  of  the  country  of  Damas,  have 
you  any  sons  ?  " 

He  answered,  "  Yes,  my  lord,  king  of  the  world,  I  have 
three  sons." 

The  prince  said :  "  Let  your  three  sons  come  here,  in  order 
that  I  may  give  judgment  quickly,  according  to  the  law  insti- 
tuted by  the  prophet  (may  the  peace  and  blessings  of  God  be 
upon  him!).  Behold  what  his  law  prescribes:  The  minister 
killed  the  children  of  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam.  It  is 
not,  therefore,  the  minister  who  should  be  punished  with 
death,  but  his  children  should  be  slain.  The  execution  of  this 
judgment  will  be  the  just  application  of  the  law  of  retaliation 
between  the  minister  and  the  princess." 

The  minister  summoned  his  three  sons.  As  soon  as  they 
had  come,  he  pointed  them  to  the  King  of  Roum. 

The  latter  said  to  his  minister,  "  O  minister,  where  is  the 
Ethiopian  whom  they  brought  here  ?  "  The  Ethiopian  rob- 
ber was  brought  out,  and  prostrated  himself  before  the  King 
of  Roum. 

The  King  of  Roum  said  to  him :  "  ^Ethiopian,  return  to 
your  own  country  and  change  your  mode  of  life.  You  will 
never  see  again  the  woman  for  whom  you  are  seeking."  And 
the  prince  gave  him  a  keti  of  gold. 

Then  the  prince  said:   "O  my  minister,  where  is  Biyapri? 


150  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

Let  them  bring  him  here."  So  they  brought  Biyapri.  When 
he  arrived  he  bowed  low  before  the  prince. 

The  prince  said :  "  Biyapri,  go  back  to  your  own  country 
and  change  your  conduct.  The  woman  whom  you  seek  you 
will  never  see  again."  And  the  prince  made  him  a  gift  of  two 
keti  of  gold. 

The  King  of  Roum  then  said :  "  Let  all  assemble.  I  am 
about  to  pronounce  judgment  between  the  King  of  Bagdad 
and  the  minister  of  Damas."  The  minister  and  the  officers 
assembled  therefore  in  the  presence  of  the  King,  together 
with  many  of  his  subjects. 

The  King  of  Roum  said :  "  O  my  executioner,  let  the  three 
children  of  the  minister  of  Damas  be  all  killed;  such  is  the 
divine  command."  So  the  children  of  the  minister  of  Damas 
were  all  three  killed. 

After  they  were  dead  the  prince  said :  "  Minister,  return  to 
the  country  of  Damas,  with  a  rag  for  your  girdle,  and  during 
your  last  days  change  your  conduct.  If  you  do  not  know  it, 
I  am  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam,  daughter  of  the  Sultan 
of  Bagdad,  wife  of  Chah  Djouhou,  my  lord,  and  the  sister  of 
Minbah-Chahaz.  God  has  stricken  your  eyes  with  blindness 
on  account  of  your  crimes  toward  me.  It  is  the  same  with  the 
cadi  of  the  city  of  Bagdad." 

The  minister  of  Damas,  seized  with  fear,  trembled  in  all 
his  limbs.  He  cast  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  princess  Mani- 
kam,  and  thus  prostrated  he  implored  pardon  a  thousand  and 
a  thousand  times.  Then  he  returned  to  Damas  all  in  tears, 
and  overwhelmed  with  grief  at  the  death  of  his  three  sons. 
The  cadi,  covered  with  shame  on  account  of  his  treachery  to 
the  Sultan  of  Bagdad,  fled  and  expatriated  himself. 

The  King  of  Roum  commanded  them  to  bring  the  King 
Chah  Djouhou  and  give  him  a  garment  all  sparkling  with 
gold,  and  he  sent  him  to  dwell  in  the  company  of  his  father- 
in-law,  the  Sultan  of  Bagdad,  and  his  brother-in-law,  the 
prince  Minbah-Chahaz. 

Then  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam  retired.  She  en- 
tered the  palace  and  returned  clad  in  the  garments  of  a 
woman.  She  then  went  out,  accompanied  by  ladies  of 
the  court,  and  went  to  present  herself  to  her  father,  the  Sultan 
of  Bagdad.  She  bowed  before  her  father,  her  brother  the 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM  151 

prince  Minbah-Chahaz,  and  her  husband,  the  King  Chah 
Djouhou.  The  princess  said :  "  O  all  of  you,  lords  and  war- 
riors of  the  country  of  Roum,  know  that  I  am  a  woman,  and 
not  a  man.  Behold  my  father,  the  Sultan  Haroun-er-Raschid, 
King  of  Bagdad.  Behold  my  brother,  whose  name  is  Min- 
bah-Chahaz; and  behold  my  husband,  the  King  Chah  Djou- 
hou, who  reigns  over  the  country  of  Damas.  From  the  time 
when  you  placed  me  upon  the  throne  of  Roum,  if  I  have  com- 
mitted any  fault  by  error  or  by  ignorance,  you  must  excuse 
me,  for  constantly  the  servants  of  God  commit  faults  by  error 
or  ignorance.  It  is  only  God  alone  who  forgets  not,  nor  neg- 
lects, and  is  free  from  error  or  ignorance." 

The  grandees  of  the  country  of  Roum  said :  "  Never  has 
your  Majesty  committed  the  least  fault,  either  by  ignorance  or 
by  error,  during  the  time  you  have  reigned  over  the  country 
of  Roum.  Nevertheless,  among  the  judgments  just  now  ren- 
dered there  was  a  fault  committed  by  your  glorious  Majesty. 
The  minister  killed,  the  princess  killed,  both  did  it  voluntarily. 
It  was  a  fault  of  judgment  for  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam 
to  have  killed  the  children  of  the  minister,  just  as  the  minis- 
ter committed  a  fault  in  killing  the  children  of  the  princess. 
There  was  a  likeness  there.  Still,  if  it  pleases  her  Majesty  to 
remain  upon  the  throne  of  Roum,  we  should  all  be  very  glad 
of  it." 

The  princess  Djouher  said :  "  I  shall  take  leave  of  you,  my 
lords.  It  is  good  that  we  should  make  the  young  prince  king, 
and  that  he  should  replace  me  on  the  throne." 

The  ministers  and  the  officers  of  Roum  responded,  "  What- 
ever be  the  commands  of  your  Majesty,  we  place  them  above 
our  heads." 

Then  the  princess  made  the  royal  prince  her  successor,  and 
the  ministers  and  officers  and  subjects  all  bowed  low,  placed 
their  hands  above  their  heads,  and  proclaimed  him  King. 

The  princess  Djouher-Manikam  said :  "  O  my  child,  here 
are  the  last  instructions  your  mother  gives  you:  You  must 
practise  justice  so  that  God  will  make  strong  your  realm.  To 
you,  my  ministers  and  officers,  I  confide  my  child.  If  he  com- 
mits some  faults  by  negligence  or  by  ignorance,  I  pray  you 
take  them  not  too  much  to  heart,  for  my  child  is  young,  and 
he  has  not  yet  attained  all  the  maturity  of  his  judgment." 


,52  MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

The  ministers  and  officers  answered :  "  O  your  Majesty, 
may  your  prosperity  grow  forever !  How  could  it  be  possible 
for  us  to  disobey  your  commands  ?  " 

The  princess  replied :  "  O  my  child,  above  all  must  you  ob- 
serve justice  and  be  patient  and  liberal  toward  your  ministers 
and  officers  and  all  your  subjects,  so  that  the  favors  of  God 
may  increase  upon  your  person  and  that  your  kingdom  may 
be  protected  by  God  the  most  high  by  the  grace  of  the  inter- 
cession of  the  prophet  Mahomet,  the  envoy  of  God  (may  the 
peace  and  blessings  of  God  be  with  him !).  O  my  child,  you 
must  govern  all  your  subjects  with  a  spirit  of  justice,  for  in 
this  world,  until  death,  we  ought  to  seek  the  truth.  O  my 
child,  above  all  forget  not  my  last  instructions."  Then,  taking 
in  her  arms  the  royal  child,  she  kissed  him. 

The  Sultan  Haroun-er-Raschid  having  told  the  Sultan  of 
Roum  that  he  wished  to  return  to  the  country  of  Bagdad,  the 
Sultan  gave  orders  to  his  ministers  to  assemble  the  grandees, 
the  officers,  and  the  soldiers,  with  elephants,  horses,  and  in- 
struments of  music.  All  came  with  presents,  for  the  Sultan 
of  Roum  wished  to  accompany  the  Sultan  Haroun-er-Ras- 
chid as  far  as  Bagdad  and  carry  him  the  presents.  The  favor- 
able moment  having  arrived,  the  Sultan  Haroun-er-Raschid 
departed  from  Roum,  directing  his  way  to  the  country  of  Bag- 
dad, from  plain  to  plain,  and  from  halting-place  to  halting- 
place.  After  journeying  some  time,  they  rejoicing  all  the  way, 
they  arrived  at  the  country  of  Bagdad. 

The  ministers,  the  chiefs,  and  the  soldiers  came  out  to  meet 
the  Sultan  Haroun-er-Raschid,  and  they  entered  the  palace. 
Then  the  Queen  hastened  to  find  the  Sultan  and  her  daughter, 
the  princess  Djouher-Manikam.  Meeting  her  daughter,  she 
pressed  her  in  her  arms  and  covered  her  with  kisses.  She 
said  in  tears :  "  Alas,  my  child !  the  fruit  of  my  heart !  I,  your 
mother  thought  that  she  would  never  see  you  again."  And 
she  covered  her  body  with  tears  and  kisses,  while  she  kept 
repeating,  "Alas,  my  child!  I  thought  you  lost  forever." 
Then  the  Queen  bowed  before  the  Sultan  Haroun-er-Raschid. 
Her  son,  Minbah-Chahaz,  then  came  to  bow  before  his 
mother,  but  the  latter  pressed  him  in  her  arms  and  kissed  him. 
Then  her  son-in-law,  King  Chah  Djouhou,  advanced  and 
bowed  before  the  Queen  in  his  turn.  And  she  pressed  him  in 
her  arms  and  kissed  him.  All  were  in  tears. 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM  153 

The  Sultan  Haroun-er-Raschid  started  for  the  hall  of  au- 
dience, and  gave  orders  to  one  of  his  heralds  to  assemble  his 
ministers,  his  warriors,  and  his  subjects.  When  they  were 
all  gathered  together  the  Sultan  said :  "  Now  I  wish  to  enter- 
tain the  ministers,  the  chiefs,  and  the  officers  who  escorted 
us  here."  When  the  Sultan  had  finished  entertaining  them 
they  desired  to  take  leave  and  return  to  the  country  of  Roum. 
The  Sultan  Haroun-er-Raschid  made  them  gifts  of  vestments 
of  honor,  to  each  according  to  his  rank.  They  prostrated 
themselves  at  his  feet,  and  then  returned  in  peace  to  the  coun- 
try of  Roum. 

Afterward,  the  Sultan  Haroun-er-Raschid  ordered  one  of 
his  heralds  to  assemble  his  ministers,  his  officers,  and  his  sub- 
jects. Once  gathered  together,  the  prince  said :  "  O  all  of 
you,  my  ministers  and  my  officers,  you  must  build  me  a  house 
of  baths  seven  stories  high,  on  the  public  square  of  Bagdad." 

All  responded,  "  O  my  lord,  king  of  the  world,  whatever 
your  commands  may  be,  your  servants  place  them  above 
their  heads."  And  all,  ministers,  officers,  and  subjects,  gave 
themselves  to  the  work,  each  of  them  doing  what  was  directed 
by  the  architect.  After  some  time,  the  palace  of  baths  was 
finished.  It  was  sumptuously  adorned  with  curtains  of  silk, 
canopies,  tapestries  woven  with  gold  and  fringed  with  pearls. 
Rugs  embroidered  with  gold  were  stretched  on  the  different 
floors,  and  there  was  a  quantity  of  torches  and  lanterns. 

Then  the  builders  came  before  the  King  and  said :  "  O  my 
lord,  king  of  the  world,  your  slaves  have  finished  their  work 
according  to  the  commands  of  your  Majesty." 

The  King  Haroun-er-Raschid  gave  thanks  unto  God  the 
most  high,  worthy  of  all  praise,  the  true  Lord  who  accords  to 
his  servants  all  their  needs. 

Then  the  festivals  began.  For  forty  days  and  forty  nights 
the  bands  never  stopped  playing.  There  were  sports,  ban- 
quets, amusements  of  all  sorts.  They  gave  themselves  noisily 
to  pleasure,  because  the  Sultan  was  going  to  proceed  to  the 
ceremony  of  the  bath  of  the  two  spouses,  his  children.  When 
the  watches  were  finished  and  the  favorable  moment  had 
come,  the  Sultan  was  arrayed  in  a  magnificent  garment  em- 
broidered with  gold,  while  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam 
was  adorned  by  her  mother  with  superb  veils  and  vestments 


154  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

trimmed  with  jewels,  with  pearls  and  precious  stones  of  an 
incomparable  richness.  The  spouses  thus  adorned,  the  Sul- 
tan made  them  mount  a  palanquin.  His  son,  Minbah-Cha- 
haz,  was  clad  in  a  splendid  costume. 

The  Sultan  mounted  his  horse  Sembaran,  and  his.  saddle 
was  of  carved  gold.  Surrounded  by  young  princes  and  lords, 
by  officers  of  his  court  and  the  standards,  Haroun-er-Raschid 
marched  at  the  head.  He  advanced,  followed  by  princes,  min- 
isters, and  officers.  The  wives  of  the  grandees  accompanied 
the  Queen  with  her  maids-of-honor,  and  all  the  musical  in- 
struments gave  forth  their  harmonious  sounds.  Seven  times 
they  made  the  circuit  of  the  city.  When  the  two  spouses  had 
arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  Palace  of  Baths  the  Sultan  made 
them  ascend.  Then  came  the  spouses  of  the  grandees  with 
the  Queen,  who  showered  them  with  rice-powder  mixed  with 
amber  and  musk,  and  poured  on  their  heads  spikenard  and 
curcuma  (turmeric).  They  were  both  plunged  into  a  bath  of 
rose-water  and  extracts  of  all  sorts  of  aromatic  flowers,  to- 
gether with  water  from  the  sacred  fountain  of  Zemzem. 

The  ceremonies  of  the  bath  finished,  the  two  spouses  went 
out  of  the  Palace  of  Baths  and  went  into  the  King's  palace. 
On  their  arrival,  they  served  a  repast  to  the  princes,  the 
orilemas,  the  doctors  of  the  law,  the  priests,  the  ministers,  the 
officers,  the  common  people,  men  and  women.  All  without 
exception  took  part  in  the  feast.  When  it  was  ended  one  of 
the  doctors  of  the  law  recited  the  prayer  asking  God  for  per- 
fect happiness,  sheltered  from  all  danger  in  this  life  and  the 
next.  Then  he  sprinkled  showers  of  the  most  charming,  per- 
fumes. 

After  that  the  Chah  Djouhou  went  to  find  the  Sultan,  and 
said  to  him :  "  O  my  lord,  king  of  the  world,  I  have  to  ask 
your  Majesty  a  favor  and  pardon.  I  wish  to  take  leave  of 
your  Majesty  and  return  to  the  country  of  Damas,  for  the 
country  of  Damas  is  forsaken,  O  my  lord." 

The  Sultan  said,  "  It  is  well,  my  lord.  Your  country,  truly, 
is  separated  from  its  King.  If  it  were  not  for  your  kingdom  I 
would  wish  never  to  be  separated  from  you,  now  that  I  have 
my  daughter  back  again.  But  if  I  am  inclined  to  commit  a 
fault,  do  not  comply  with  it." 

Radja  Chah  Djouhou  answered :  "  Your  daughter  is  like  a 


THE  PRINCESS  DJOUHER-MANIKAM  155 

soul  which  has  entered  my  body.  That  is  how  I  feel.  But 
the  countless  favors  of  your  Majesty  to  me,  I  place  them  above 
my  head." 

The  Sultan  Haroun-er-Raschid  then  said  to  his  prime  min- 
ister :  "  O  my  minister,  get  ready  to  start  3,000  soldiers  and 
300  horsemen.  And  have  elephants  or  horses  well  equipped 
to  transport  my  two  children,  husband  and  wife."  When  the 
escort  was  ready,  then  the  Sultan  commanded  them  to  open 
the  place  where  his  treasures  were  stored,  and  forty- four  camels 
were  laden  with  riches,  with  vestments  of  woven  gold  and 
precious  objects  such  as  are  found  only  in  the  palaces  of  kings. 

All  these  preparations  being  finished,  Radja  Chah  Djouhou 
took  leave  of  his  father-in-law,  his  mother-in-law,  and  his 
brother-in-law,  Minbah-Chahaz.  The  latter  all  held  in  their 
arms  and  covered  with  kisses  the  princess  Djouher-Manikam, 
as  well  as  Radja  Chah  Djouhou.  He  and  his  brother-in-law 
Minbah-Chahaz  wept  as  they  embraced,  and  the  people  of 
the  palace  burst  into  sobs  with  a  noise  like  that  of  the  waves 
breaking  on  the  seashore.  Finally  the  princess  Djouher  and 
the  King  Chah  Djouhou,  after  bowing  before  their  father, 
mother,  and  brother,  set  out  for  the  country  of  Damas,  to  the 
imposing  sound  of  all  the  instruments  of  music.  The  Sultan 
Haroun-er-Raschid  and  his  son,  Minbah-Chahaz,  conducted 
them  outside  of  the  fortifications.  When  they  were  far  off, 
the  Sultan  went  back  to  his  palace,  walking  sadly  with  his 
son,  Minbah-Chahaz,  and  praying  God  to  bless  his  children. 

After  some  time  on  the  journey,  the  King  Chah  Djouhou 
arrived  at  the  country  of  Damas.  The  officers  and  the  sol- 
diers sallied  from  the  fortifications  of  Damas  and  went 
to  meet  the  prince.  The  ministers  and  the  officers  bowed  low 
at  his  feet,  all  rejoicing  over  the  happy  return  and  perfect 
health  of  the  King  and  Queen.  The  prince  entered  his  pal- 
ace, and  the  two  spouses  lived  full  of  tenderness  for  each  other. 

I  will  not  prolong  this  story  of  the  princess  Djouher-Mani- 
kam, which  has  become  celebrated  in  all  countries  to  wind- 
ward and  to  leeward.  I  close  it  here,  giving  my  best  wishes 
to  those  who  shall  read  or  hear  it,  and  particularly  to  those 
who  shall  copy  it ! 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA; 

OR, 

THE    CROWN    OF    KINGS 

[Translated  by  Aristide  Marre  and  C.  C.  Starkweather] 


MAKOTA   RADJA-RADJA* 

KINGS  who  are  of  the  true  faith,  who  have  wisdom  and 
follow  justice,  cause  men  worthy  of  their  confidence 
to  travel  through  their  kingdom,  to  serve  as  their 
eyes  and  ears,  and  to  make  reports  on  the  state  and  condi- 
tion of  their  subjects,  so  that,  knowing  the  cause,  they  may 
examine  for  themselves  the  conduct  of  the  servants  of  God. 
But  there  are  kings  who  do  not  rest  contented  with  the  re- 
port of  their  servants,  and  go  themselves  by  night  to  see  the 
condition  and  hear  the  complaints  of  subjects.  Then  they 
make  by  day  a  thorough  examination  of  the  matters  thus 
come  to  their  knowledge,  in  order  to  regulate  them  with  jus- 
tice and  equity. 

A  story  will  illustrate  this.  Zeyd  Ibries  Selam  tells  what 
follows :  The  prince  of  the  believers,  the  Caliph  Omar  (may 
God  be  satisfied  with  him !),  judged  the  servants  of  God  with 
equity  during  the  day,  and  after  pronouncing  his  judgments 
he  went  out  of  the  city  on  the  side  toward  the  cemetery 
called  Bakia-el-Gharkada.  There  he  cut  stone  to  gain  money 
enough  for  the  maintenance  of  his  house,  and  when  night  had 
come  he  went  through  the  city  to  know  the  good  and  evil 
of  the  servants  of  God.  One  night,  says  Zeyd  Ibries  Selam, 
"  I  accompanied  the  prince  of  the  believers,  Omar.  When 
he  was  outside  of  Medina,  he  perceived  a  fire  in  an  out-of-the- 
way  place,  and  turned  his  steps  thither.  Scarcely  had  he  ar- 
rived when  he  heard  a  woman  with  three  children,  and  the 
latter  were  crying.  The  woman  said :  '  O  God  the  most  high, 
I  beseech  thee,  make  Omar  suffer  what  I  am  suffering  now. 
He  sleeps  satiated  with  food,  while  I  and  my  children  are 
starving.'  The  prince  of  the  believers,  Omar,  hearing  these 

*  Or,  "  The  Crown  of  Kings." 
159 


160  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

words,  went  to  the  woman,  and  with  a  salutation  said,  '  May 
I  approach  ? ' 

"  The  woman  answered,  '  If  it  be  by  way  of  goodness,  come.' 

"  He  approached  her  and  questioned  her  about  her  situa- 
tion. 

"  The  woman  said :  '  I  come  from  a  far  place ;  and  as  it  was 
dark  when  I  arrived  here,  I  could  not  enter  the  city.  So  I 
stopped  at  this  place.  My  children  and  I  are  suffering  from 
hunger  and  we  cannot  sleep.' 

"  The  Caliph  inquired,  '  What  is  there  in  this  kettle  ?  ' 

"  The  woman  answered :  '  Nothing  but  water.  I  put  it  in 
the  kettle  so  that  the  children  should  imagine  that  I  was  cook- 
ing rice — perhaps,  then,  they  would  go  to  sleep  and  stop  cry- 
ing so  loudly.' 

"  As  soon  as  Omar  had  heard  these  words  he  returned 
promptly  to  the  city  of  Medina.  Arriving  at  a  shop  where 
they  sold  flour,  be  bought  some  and  put  it  into  a  sack.  In 
another  shop  he  bought  some  meat.  Then  lifting  the  sack  to 
his  shoulders  he  carried  it  out  of  the  city.  I  said  to  him : 

" '  O  prince  of  the  believers,  give  me  this  sack,  that  I  may 
carry  it  for  you.' 

" '  If  you  bear  the  weight  of  this  sack,'  said  his  glorious 
Majesty  to  me,  '  who  will  bear  the  weight  of  my  fault,  and 
who  will  clear  me  from  the  prayer  of  this  woman  in  the  afflic- 
tion of  her  heart  when  she  complained  to  the  Lord  of  my  neg- 
ligence ? ' 

"  Omar,  having  said  these  words,  continued  to  walk  in  tears 
until  he  had  come  near  the  woman  and  her  children.  Then 
he  gave  her  the  flour  and  the  meat,  and  they  ate  till  their  hun- 
ger was  appeased.  The  woman  with  a  satisfied  heart  cried : 

" '  May  God  the  most  high  hear  my  prayer  and  render  you 
benefits,  since  you  are  so  full  of  compassion  for  the  servants 
of  God  and  are  so  much  better  than  Omar.' 

"  The  Caliph  said  to  her,  '  O  woman,  blame  not  Omar,  for 
he  knew  not  how  you  fared.'  " 

There  was  once  a  king  in  the  country  of  Syria  named  Ma- 
lik-es-Saleh,  very  pious  and  just,  and  continually  preoccu- 
pied with  the  state  of  his  subjects.  They  say  that  every  night 
he  went  to  the  mosque,  cemeteries,  and  other  solitary  places, 
in  search  of  strangers,  fakirs,  and  poor  people  who  had  neither 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  161 

home  nor  family.  One  night,  arriving  near  a  mosque,  he 
heard  the  voice  of  a  man  inside  the  edifice.  He  entered  and 
saw  a  fakir  there.  He  could  not  see  him  distinctly,  because 
he  was  covered  with  a  mat.  But  he  heard  him,  and  this  is 
what  he  said :  "  O  Lord,  if  on  the  judgment-day  thou  sRalt 
give  a  place  in  heaven  to  kings  who  are  forgetful  of  the  fakirs 
and  the  poor,  then,  O  Lord,  grant  that  I  may  not  enter  there." 

Malik-es-Saleh,  hearing  these  words,  shed  tears.  He  placed 
a  piece  of  stuff  before  the  fakir  with  100  tahil  of  silver,  and 
said  to  him : 

"  O  fakir,  I  have  learned  from  the  glorious  prophet  (may 
peace  be  with  him !)  that  fakirs'  become  kings  in  heaven,  after 
a  life  of  self-sacrifice  on  earth.  Since  I  am  King  in- this  per- 
ishable world,  I  come  to  you  with  the  weakness  of  my  nature 
and  baseness  of  my  being.  I  ask  you  to  be  at  peace  with  me, 
and  to  show  yourself  compassionate  to  me  when  the  moment 
of  your  glory  in  heaven  shall  have  arrived." 

When  the  Sultan  Zayad  sat  upon  the  royal  throne  of  Ikak, 
the  country  was  infested  with  malefactors,  brigands,  robbers, 
assassins,  and  the  like.  The  compounds  were  destroyed,  the 
houses  pillaged,  and  the  people  killed.  The  inhabitants  could 
not  sleep  a  single  night  in  quiet,  nor  pass  a  single  day  in  safety 
at  home.  A  crowd  of  people  came  with  their  complaints  to 
the  Sultan  Zayad,  saying: 

"  The  compounds  are  destroyed,  the  houses  are  pillaged, 
and  the  men  are  killed."  All  throughout  Irak  one  heard  noth- 
ing but  reports  of  this  kind. 

One  Friday  the  Sultan  went  to  the  mosque  to  pray.  He 
then  shut  all  the  doors  and  said  to  the  people  in  the  mosque : 
"  O  servants  of  God  now  present  in  this  mosque,  know  that  a 
duty  is  imposed  upon  me.  I  must  protect  my  subjects,  for  I 
shall  have  to  give  an  account  of  my  actions  on  the  day  of 
judgment.  There  are  now  in  this  country  large  numbers  of 
malefactors,  and  many  of  my  people  have  been  ruined  by  them. 
It  is  my  duty  to  repress  these  disorders.  So,  then,  listen  to 
what  I  have  to  say,  and  repeat  it  to  those  who  are  not  present. 
I  swear  to  you  that  all  who  shall,  three  days  from  now,  leave 
his  house  after  the  hour  of  evening  prayer,  shall  be  put  to 
death." 

When  the  three  days  had  passed  and  the  fourth  night  ar- 


I6a  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

rived,  Sultan  Zayad  mounted  his  horse  and  traversed  the  city 
with  an  escort  of  cavaliers.  Outside  of  the  city  he  came  to  a 
place  and  saw  a  man  standing  under  a  tree  in  the  middle  of  a 
flock  of  sheep  and  goats.  He  said  to  him,  "  Who  are  you  ?  " 

The  man  said :  "  I  come  from  a  far-off  village,  and  I  am 
bringing  sheep  and  goats  to  the  city  to  sell  them,  and  with 
their  price  to  buy  what  I  can  for  my  wife  and  children.  When 
arrived  at  this  place  I  was  so  tired  that  I  could  not  enter  the 
city,  and  was  obliged  to  stay  here,  with  the  intention  of  enter- 
ing at  daybreak  and  selling  my  sheep  and  goats." 

Sultan  Zayad,  having  heard  this  response,  said :  "  Your 
•words  are  true,  but  what  can  I  do?  If  I  do  not  put  you  to 
death  to-morrow,  when  the  news  spreads,  they  will  say  Sultan 
Zayad  is  not  faithful  to  his  word.  They  will  regard  me  with 
disdain,  and  no  one  will  obey  my  orders.  And  the  wicked 
ones  will  commit  violent  acts  upon  the  good  ones,  and  my 
country  will  be  ruined.  Heaven  is  better  for  you  than  this 
world."  So  he  had  him  put  to  death  and  ordered  that  they 
should  take  his  head. 

During  that  same  night  all  that  he  met  were  killed  and  be- 
headed. They  say  that  in  the  course  of  that  first  day  500 
persons  were  put  to  death.  At  dawn  he  had  all  these  heads 
exposed  on  the  highways,  and  published  this  proclamation : 

"  Whosoever  shall  not  obey  the  commands  of  Sultan  Zayad 
shall  suffer  the  same  fate." 

When  the  people  of  the  country  saw  these  heads  exposed 
at  all  sides  on  the  earth,  they  were  frightened,  and  a  respect- 
ful fear  of  Sultan  Zayad  filled  all  hearts. 

The  second  night  Sultan  Zayad  went  out  again  from  the  city, 
and  that  night  500  persons  were  killed. 

The  third  night  he  remained  out  of  the  city  till  morning,  but 
he  did  not  meet  a  soul. 

The  following  Friday  Sultan  Zayad  went  to  the  mosque, 
said  his  prayers,  and  declared :  "  O  servants  of  God,  let  no 
one  after  to-day  shut  the  door  of  his  house  nor  his  shop.  I 
take  upon  myself  the  charge  of  replacing  those  of  your  goods 
which  shall  be  destroyed  or  stolen." 

They  all  obeyed  his  orders,  for  they  feared  him  greatly. 
Their  doors  remained  opened  for  several  nights,  and  they 
never  suffered  the  slightest  loss.  But  after  a  while  a  man 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  163 

complained  to  the  Sultan,  saying,  "  Last  night  someone  stole 
from  me  400  tahil." 

The  Sultan  said :  "  Can  you  swear  to  it  ?  " 

The  man  swore  to  the  facts,  and  the  Sultan  had  400  tahil 
counted  out  to  him  in  place  of  those  he  had  lost.  The  follow- 
ing Friday,  after  prayers,  forbidding  anyone  to  leave  the 
mosque,  the  Sultan  said :  "  O  servants  of  the  Lord,  know  that 
400  tahil  have  been  stolen  from  the  shop  of  a  certain  man. 
Unless  you  denounce  the  robber,  not  one  of  you  shall  escape, 
but  to-day  shall  all  of  you  be  put  to  death." 

Now,  as  he  had  rigorously  commanded  attendance  at  Fri- 
day's prayer  service,  the  whole  town  had  come  to  the  mosque. 
They  were  seized  with  fright,  for  they  knew  that  the  Sultan 
kept  his  word,  and  they  denounced  the  robber.  The  latter 
gave  back  the  400  tahil  and  received  his  punishment. 

A  long  time  afterward  the  Sultan  Zayad  asked,  "  At  what 
place  in  my  kingdom  do  they  fear  robbers  most  of  all  ?  " 

"  In  the  Valley  of  the  Beni  Ardou,  in  the  country  of  Bass- 
rah,  for  there  they  are  numerous." 

Sultan  Zayad  one  day  had  the  highways  and  paths  of  the 
valley  strewn  with  gold  and  silver,  precious  stones,  and  stuffs 
of  great  price.  All  these  things  lay  there  a  long  time  and  not 
one  was  taken.  Then  the  Sultan  ordered  them  to  take  up 
these  riches  and  give  them  to  the  fakirs  and  the  poor.  Then 
he  rendered  thanks  unto  God  that  he  had  thus  securely  es- 
tablished his  law  among  his  subjects. 

Now  it  was  in  the  times  when  Nouchirvan  governed  with 
justice  and  equity,  protecting  his  subjects  and  causing  his 
kingdom  to  prosper.  One  day  he  asked  the  grandees  of  his 
court,  "  Are  there  in  my  kingdom  any  places  deserted  and 
without  inhabitants  ?  " 

The  grandees  who  were  there  answered,  "  O  king  of  the 
world,  we  know  not  in  all  your  Majesty's  realm  a  place  which 
is  not  inhabited." 

Nouchirvau  kept  silence,  and  for  many  days  did  not  leave 
the  palace.  He  summoned  to  his  private  chamber  a  learned 
doctor  named  Bouzor  Djambour,  and  said  to  him: 

"  I  desire  to  know  with  certainty  if  all  parts  of  my  realm  are 
peopled,  or  if  there  is  any  which  is  not.  How  can  I  be  sure  of 
this?" 


1 64  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

"  To  have  your  Majesty's  desire  fully  satisfied  you  have 
only  to  abstain  from  leaving  the  palace." 

Saying  this,  Bouzor  Djambour  took  leave  of  the  King  and 
went  to  the  audience-chamber  of  the  King.  He  spoke  to  those 
assembled  there  as  follows :  "  O  ministers,  generals,  and  all 
present,  know  that  his  Majesty  is  ill.  Now,  in  order  to  cure 
him  you  must  find  for  me  a  little  bit  of  earth  from  a  place  in 
ruins  and  uninhabited.  Those  who  are  faithful  servants  of 
the  King  will  not  hesitate  to  accomplish  immediately  this  act 
of  devotion  in  his  service,  and  to  start  at  once  in  search  of  the 
remedy  I  have  named." 

These  words  were  scarcely  uttered  when  men  were  sent  out 
to  search  the  towns  and  villages  and  find  some  earth  from  a 
place  in  ruins  and  uninhabited.  They  found  only  one  house 
in  ruins,  and  the  governor  of  the  town  said  as  follows  about 
it:  "A  merchant  once  established  in  this  dwelling.  He  died 
and  left  much  wealth.  As  none  of  his  heirs  came  forward, 
we  closed  the  doors  with  stones  and  mortar,  waiting  for  them 
to  arrive.  So  the  house  has  fallen  to  ruin." 

Then  the  people  took  a  little  earth  from  beneath  the  house 
and  took  it  to  the  King,  telling  him  what  had  happened.  Then 
the  King  called  an  assembly  and  said : 

"  Know  all  that  my  illness  proceeded  only  from  my  fear  that 
there  might  be  in  my  kingdom  a  house  in  ruins.  Now  that  it 
has  been  shown  to  me  that  there  exists  in  my  whole  realm  not 
a  single  place  in  ruins,  but  that  the  country  is  well  populated, 
my  malady  is  cured,  seeing  that  my  kingdom  is  in  a  perfect 
condition." 

In  the  time  of  Nouchirvau  a  man  sold  his  compound  to 
another  man.  The  buyer  of  this  property,  while  engaged  in 
making  repairs,  found  in  the  earth  many  jars  filled  with  gold 
which  someone  had  buried  there.  He  went  immediately  to  the 
one  who  sold  him  the  premises  and  told  him  the  news.  The 
seller  said: 

"  That  gold  is  not  mine,  for  I  did  not  put  it  in  the  ground. 
I  sold  you  the  compound ;  the  discovery  that  you  have  made  is 
yours." 

The  buyer  replied :  "  I  bought  the  premises  alone :  I  did 
not  buy  gold;  so  it  is  yours."  As  each  refused  to  take  the 
treasure,  they  went  to  the  King  Nouchirvau  and  recounted  the 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  165 

affair  to  him,  saying,  "  This  gold  should  be  the  property  of 
the  King."  But  King  Nouchirvau  would  not  take  the  gold. 
He  asked  the  two  men  if  they  had  children.  They  replied, 
"  Yes,  my  lord,  we  have  each  a  child,  a  boy  and  a  girl." 

"  Well,"  said  the  King,  "  marry  the  girl  to  the  boy,  and  give 
them  the  gold  you  found." 

In  ancient  times  a  King  of  China  fell  ill  and  as  a  result  of 
his  malady  he  lost  his  hearing.  He  wept  in  sorrow  over  this 
affliction  and  grew  very  thin  and  pale.  His  ministers  came 
one  day  and  asked  him  to  tell  them  in  writing  his  condition. 
He  answered :  "  I  am  not  ill,  but  so  weakened  by  my  inquietude 
and  distress  that  I  can  no  longer  hear  the  words  of  my  subjects 
when  they  come  to  make  their  complaints.  I  know  not  how 
to  act  not  to  be  guilty  of  negligence  in  the  government  of  my 
kingdom." 

The  ministers  then  said:  "  If  the  ears  of  your  Majesty  do 
not  hear,  our  ears  shall  replace  those  of  the  King,  and  we  can 
carry  to  his  Majesty  the  complaints  and  regrets  of  his  sub- 
jects. Why,  then,  should  his  Majesty  be  so  much  disturbed 
over  the  weakening  of  his  physical  forces  ?  " 

The  King  of  China  answered:  "At  the  day  of  judgment 
it  is  I,,  and  not  my  ministers,  who  will  have  to  render  account 
of  the  affairs  of  my  subjects.  I  must  therefore  myself  ex- 
amine into  their  complaints  and  troubles.  I  am  sure  that  the 
burden  of  ruling  would  be  lighter  for  me  if  I  could  have  tran- 
quillity of  spirit.  But  my  eyes  can  see,  although  my  ears  are 
deaf." 

And  he  commanded  them  to  publish  this  edict :  "  All  who 
are  victims  of  injustice  must  reduce  their  complaints  to  writing, 
and  bring  them  to  the  King  so  that  he  may  look  into  their 
troubles." 

They  tell  also  the  following  story:  There  was  formerly 
in  the  city  of  Ispahan,  a  king  whose  power  and  glory  had  filled 
him  with  pride.  He  commanded  his  ministers  to  build  him 
a  palace  in  a  certain  place.  The  ministers,  with  the  archi- 
tects, ordered  the  slaves  to  level  the  ground  so  as  to  form  a 
vast  esplanade  and  cause  to  disappear  all  the  houses  of  the 
neighborhood.  Among  these  houses,  they  say,  there  was  one 
belonging  to  an  old  woman  who  was  very  poor  and  without  a 
family  to  help  her.  In  spite  of  her  great  age,  she  went  to 


1 66  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

work  as  well  as  she  could,  in  different  places,  but  could 
scarcely  exist  on  her  earnings.  Her  house  near  the  site  selected 
for  the  new  palace  was  old  and  in  a  tumble-down  condition. 
They  tell  that  one  day  having  gone  a  long  distance  to  find  work 
she  fell  ill  and  remained  a  long  time  without  being  able  to 
return  to  her  house.  Then  the  architects  who  were  building 
the  palace  said,  "  We  must  not  let  this  hovel  remain  standing 
so  near  the  King's  palace."  So  they  razed  the  hut  and  levelled 
the  earth,  and  finished  the  palace  with  all  sorts  of  embellish- 
ments. The  King,  taking  possession,  gave  a  grand  house- 
warming  festival. 

Now  on  this  very  day  it  so  happened  that  the  old  woman 
returned  home.  Arriving  she  could  find  no  traces  of  her  house, 
and  was  stupefied.  In  one  hand  she  held  a  stick,  in  the  other 
some  dry  wood  for  her  fire.  On  her  back  she  bore  a  package 
of  rice  and  herbs  for  cooking.  She  was  fatigued  with  a  long 
journey  and  faint  with  hunger.  When  she  saw  that  her  house 
had  disappeared  she  knew  not  what  to  do  nor  where  to  go.  She 
burst  into  tears.  The  servants  of  the  King  drove  her  away, 
and  as  she  went,  she  fell  and  spilled  her  rice  and  herbs  and 
fell  down  in  the  mud.  In  this  state  of  indescribable  desola- 
tion she  exclaimed,  "  O  Lord,  avenge  me  on  these  tyrants !  " 

The  old  woman  had  hardly  ceased  speaking  when  the  voice 
of  some  unseen  being  was  heard  above  her  saying,  "  O 
woman,  fly  quickly  from  this  spot,  for  the  anger  of  God  is 
advancing  upon  the  King."  In  horror  she  got  up  and  fled  in 
all  haste.  Again  she  heard  the  voice  saying,  "  O  woman, 
look  behind  you  at  the  palace."  She  looked  behind  her  and 
saw  the  palace,  the  King,  and  all  his  ministers  and  servants 
engulfed  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  by  the  will  of  God.  And 
to  this  day  that  place  vomits  fire  and  smoke  as  a  mark  and  a 
warning. 

In  the  Kitab  Tarykh  it  is  told  that  in  ancient  times  under  the 
kings  of  Persia  named  Moah,  who  followed  the  rules  of  justice, 
men  were  happy.  But  after  these  kings,  Izdegherd-ibn- 
Chahryar  reigned  over  Persia.  By  his  harsh  tyranny  he 
destroyed  the  high  reputation  of  the  kings  of  Persia  and 
wretchedly  closed  a  series  of  reigns  lasting  4,000  years  and 
noted  all  over  the  world  for  justice  and  equity.  Under  the 
rule  of  this  miserable  tyrant  countless  numbers  of  men  perished 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  167 

and  a  great  many  prosperous  and  famous  cities  were  devas- 
tated. All  the  better  classes  of  citizens  were  plunged  into  the 
most  frightful  distress  and  the  most  lamentable  desolation, 
and  it  would  be  impossible  to  tell  how  great  and  wide-spread 
was  the  mourning.  Now  while  all  were  groaning  in  affliction 
the  King  made  merry. 

One  day  in  his  presumptuous  pride  he  assembled  his  min- 
isters and  his  generals  to  show  his  royal  power  and  his  domi- 
nation over  the  people.  He  was  seated  on  his  throne,  surrounded 
by  a  crowd  of  courtiers,  when  suddenly  a  beautiful  horse  cross- 
ing the  city  at  a  gallop  went  straight  into  the  palace  of  the 
King,  among  the  ministers  and  the  grandees.  They  all  ad- 
mired the  beautiful  horse,  the  like  of  which  none  had  ever 
seen.  Nobody  dared  to  seize  him  as  he  pranced  from  right  to 
left.  Suddenly  the  horse  approached  the  throne  and  laid  down 
at  the  feet  of  the  King.  The  King  patted  and  stroked  him, 
and  the  horse  never  moved.  Then  the  wicked  King  began  to 
laugh  and  said :  "  O  my  ministers,  you  see  how  far  my  great- 
ness goes.  It  is  only  at  my  throne  that  this  wonderful  horse 
has  stopped.  I  will  mount  and  ride  him  on  the  esplanade." 
The  King  ordered  a  saddle  brought,  and  was  placing  it  on  the 
horse  with  his  own  hands,  when  he  received  such  a  kick  over 
the  heart  that  he  was  immediately  killed.  Then  the  wonderful 
horse  vanished,  and  no  one  saw  where  it  went.  The  people  all 
rejoiced  and  said,  "  Of  a  truth,  this  mysterious  horse  was 
one  of  the  angels  of  God  sent  to  exterminate  a  tyrant." 

It  was  in  the  time  of  this  King,  and  by  his  tyranny,  that  the 
kingdom  of  the  sovereign  of  Persia  was  ruled  and  fell  into  the 
hands  of  another  people.  King  Khochtacab,  the  most  cele- 
brated of  all  the  kings  of  his  time,  by  his  power,  greatness,  and 
magnificence,  had  raised  in  rank  a  man  named  Rassat  Rouchin; 
a  name  which  in  Persia  signifies  "  sincere  and  brilliant."  In- 
fluenced by  this  fine  name,  the  King  forgot  all  prudence,  and 
without  any  proof  of  his  capacity  he  raised  this  man  to  power 
and  made  him  minister,  turning  over  to  him  tTie  care  of  the 
most  important  affairs  in  his  kingdom  and  giving  him  all  his 
confidence.  His  ostensible  conduct  was  irreproachable,  and  his 
acts  had  for  everybody  the  appearance  of  honesty  and  truth. 
One  day  the  minister  Rassat  Rouchin  said  to  the  King :  "  The 
people,  on  account  of  our  leniency  and  goodness,  are  forgetting 


1 68  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

their  duty,  and  are  showing  no  more  deference  nor  respect 
We  must  inspire  them  with  fear,  or  affairs  will  not  prosper." 

The  King  in  his  blind  confidence  responded,  "  Do  whatever 
you  think  is  right."  As  soon  as  the  minister  had  come  from 
the  palace  of  the  King  he  addressed  a  proclamation  to  the 
towns  and  villages  in  which  he  said:  "His  Majesty  is  irri- 
tated with  his  subjects.  You  must  all  come  with  presents  to 
appease  his  anger."  From  all  sides  arrived  princes  and  min- 
isters and  grandees  of  the  realm,  with  precious  and  magnificent 
objects.  Seized  with  fear  they  sought  counsel  of  the  minister 
Rassat  Rouchin. 

"  How,"  said  they,  "  dare  we  present  ourselves  before  his 
Majesty  in  his  present  state  of  anger  against  us?" 

Then  the  minister  responded :  "  If  the  instant  of  death  is 
not  yet  come  for  you,  I  will  try  to  save  you.  I  tremble  to  admit 
you  to  the  King.  But  what  can  I  do?  On  account  of  the 
critical  situation  I  will  go  alone  before  the  King  and  present 
your  case."  So  every  day  he  conducted  them  only  as  far  as  the 
door  of  the  King.  There  they  were  told  of  the  fines  to  which 
they  had  been  condemned.  He  took  in  this  way  what  they 
had,  and  sent  them  home. 

This  sort  of  thing  continued  for  a  long  while  until  the  means 
of  the  people  were  exhausted  and  the  treasury  became  abso- 
lutely empty.  The  King,  always  full  of  confidence  in  the  up- 
rightness of  the  minister,  was  in  complete  ignorance  of  all 
this.  But  at  that  time  there  was  a  king  who  was  an  enemy 
of  King  Khochtacab.  When  he  learned  that  the  subjects  of 
the  latter  were  suffering  cruelly  from  the  oppression  of  his 
minister  and  that  his  generals  were  weakened  by  hunger,  he 
took  heart  and  invaded  the  kingdom.  Then  King  Khochtacab 
commanded  that  his  treasury  should  be  opened,  and  that  they 
should  take  out  all  the  wealth  to  gratify  the  army,  gain  the 
hearts  of  the  generals,  and  defray  the  expenses  of  the  war.  But 
he  found  that  there  was  nothing  left  in  the  treasury.  The 
army,  weakened,  was  incapable  of  resisting.  The  King,  shut 
up  in  his  fort,  found  it  impossible  to  attack  the  enemy,  and  they 
ravaged  and  despoiled  the  kingdom. 

The  King,  having  been  considered  so  great,  was  cruelly 
wounded  by  shame  at  his  defeat.  He  knew  not  which  way 
to  turn  his  steps.  His  soul  was  profoundly  troubled.  One 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  169 

day,  when  he  had  gone  forth  from  the  city,  wandering  at  ran- 
dom through  plain  and  forest,  he  saw  a  shepherd's  hut  in  the 
distance,  at  the  door  of  which  were  two  dogs  hanging  by  the 
neck.  Seeing  the  King,  the  shepherd  approached  and  led 
him  to  his  hovel  and  served  him  with  the  best  food  he  could 
afford.  But  the  King  said : 

"  I  shall  not  eat  until  you  have  told  me  why  you  have 
hanged  these  two  dogs  at  your  cabin-door." 

The  shepherd  responded :  "  O  king  of  the  world,  I  hanged 
these  two  dogs  because  they  betrayed  my  flock.  As  my  flock 
was  wasting  away,  I  hid  one  day  to  see  what  took  place.  The 
wolf  came  and  the  dogs  played  with  him  and  let  him  carry  off 
sheep  and  goats.  So  I  hanged  the  two  dogs  as  faithless  trai- 
tors." 

The  King  returned  to  the  city  and  thought  over  this  singu- 
lar story.  "  It  is  a  lesson  for  me,"  he  said,  "  a  revelation.  It 
is  impossible  not  to  see  that  my  subjects  are  the  flock  and  I 
am  the  shepherd,  while  my  minister  has  acted  like  the  shep- 
herd's dogs,  and  the  enemy  who  has  my  kingdom  is  the  wolf. 
I  must  examine  into  the  conduct  of  my  minister  and  see  with 
what  fidelity  he  has  served  me." 

When  he  had  returned  to  the  palace  he  called  his  secre- 
taries and  bade  them  bring  the  registers  in  which  the  accounts 
of  the  kingdom  were  kept.  When  these  registers  were 
opened  he  saw  that  they  mentioned  only  the  name  of  the  min- 
ister Rassat  Rouchin,  and  included  such  statements  as :  "  In- 
tercession of  Rassat  Rouchin  in  favor  of  princes  so  and  so, 
ministers  such  and  such,  and  grandees  this  and  that,  who  ask 
pardon  for  their  faults.  Rassat  Rouchin  took  their  treasures 
and  granted  them  grace."  There  was  nothing  else  in  the  reg- 
isters. When  the  King  saw  this  he  said : 

"  Who  rests  his  faith  upon  a  name  goes  often  without  bread, 
While  he  who  faithless  proves  for  bread  shall  lose  his  soul  instead." 

These  words  the  King  had  engraved  in  letters  of  gold  and 
fastened  to  the  gate.  And  at  this  gate  he  had  the  false  minis- 
ter hanged  as  the  dogs  were  hanged  at  the  cabin-door. 

A  King  of  Persia,  in  a  fit  of  anger  against  his  wife  for  a  cer- 
tain fault  which  she  had  committed,  commanded  his  prime 
minister  to  put  her  to  death,  together  with  her  nursing  in- 


1 70  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

fant.  The  minister,  on  account  of  the  furious  anger  of  the 
King,  did  not  dare  to  plead  the  Queen's  cause,  but  took  her 
to  his  mother's  house.  The  minister  found  another  woman 
who  had  been  condemned  to  death  and  had  her  executed,  tell- 
ing the  King  that  it  was  the  Queen  who  was  beheaded.  The 
King's  child  grew  and  flourished  until  he  had  become  a  hand- 
some young  man.  But  the  King  grew  more  and  more  morose 
and  melancholy,  and  shut  himself  up  in  the  palace.  The  min- 
ister, noticing  this  continual  sadness  of  the  King,  said : 

"  O  king  of  the  world,  what  has  come  over  the  heart  of  your 
Majesty?  Pray  tell  me  the  cause  of  your  sorrow." 

And  the  King  said :  "  O  minister,  how  should  I  not  be  sad 
and  disturbed  ?  Here  I  am  getting  old  and  I  have  no  son  to 
cause  my  name  to  live  and  protect  my  kingdom.  That  is  the 
cause  of  my  sorrow  and  unhappiness." 

When  the  minister  heard  these  words  he  said,  "  O  king  of 
the  world,  your  sorrow  shall  not  long  endure,  for  you  have  a 
son,  capable  of  preserving  and  protecting  your  kingdom. 
This  son  of  yours  has  intelligence,  education,  natural  gifts, 
and  great  personal  beauty,  and  is  of  most  excellent  charac- 
ter." 

The  King  said,  "  Where  is  this  son  of  whose  existence  I 
have  been  unaware  ?  " 

The  minister  answered,  "  Your  Majesty  is  not  aware  of  his 
existence,  but  I  know  that  he  is  very  much  alive."  The  min- 
ister then  related  how  he  had  spared  the  lives  of  the  Queen 
and  her  child.  The  King  was  transported  with  joy,  and  cried, 
"  Happy  the  king  who  has  such  a  minister !  " 

The  minister  bowed  low  and  said,  "  When  shall  your  son, 
the  prince,  present  himself?  " 

The  King  answered :  "  Go  seek  forty  young  men  of  his 
age,  build,  figure,  and  complexion.  Have  them  all  dressed 
alike.  Bring  these  forty  young  men  with  my  son  to  a  cer- 
tain place  in  the  plain.  Await  me  there,  but  tell  not  this  secret 
to  a  soul.  When  I  have  arrived  at  the  spot  then  cause  these 
forty  young  men  to  present  themselves  before  me.  If  my  son 
is  among  them  I  shall  most  certainly  recognize  him." 

The  minister  took  leave  of  the  King,  and  with  a  heart  filled 
with  joy  set  about  doing  what  the  King  had  ordered.  When 
the  King  had  arrived  at  the  spot  chosen  his  minister  ad- 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  iyx 

vanced,  followed  by  forty-one  youths,  all  dressed  alike.  As 
soon  as  the  King  had  seen  them  he  recognized  his  son  and 
called  him  to  his  side.  Then  he  went  back  to  the  city  with 
him  and  all  the  grandees.  The  next  day  he  invited  the  latter 
to  a  great  festival,  and  gave  to  each  of  them  a  splendid  pres- 
ent. He  turned  over  his  kingdom  to  his  son,  taking  care  to 
place  him  and  his  government  under  the  tutelage  of  the  good 
minister  who  had  saved  his  wife  and  brought  him  up.  Then 
the  King  went  into  a  religious  retreat,  and  as  long  as  he  lived 
occupied  himself  in  the  service  of  God. 

The  Sultan  Alexander,  called  the  Two-Horned,  at  the  be- 
ginning of  his  reign  sent  an  ambassador  to  King  Darius,  who 
was  then  at  the  zenith  of  his  greatness.  On  his  return,  this 
ambassador  made  his  report  to  King  Alexander.  The  latter 
read  it,  but  had  doubts  over  a  certain  word  therein  contained. 
He  questioned  his  ambassador  about  the  word,  saying,  "  Did 
you  hear  that  exact  word  from  the  mouth  of  King  Darius  ?  " 

The  ambassador  replied,  "  I  heard  it  with  my  own  ears." 

King  Alexander,  not  being  able  to  believe  it,  wrote  a  sec- 
ond letter,  mentioning  this  word,  and  despatched  to  King 
Darius  another  ambassador,  charged  to  deliver  it.  When 
King  Darius,  reading  the  letter  of  King  Alexander,  came  to 
this  special  word,  he  took  a  knife  and  cut  it  out,  then  wrote 
a  letter  to  King  Alexander,  in  which  he  said :  "  The  sincerity 
of  the  soul  of  the  King  is  the  foundation  of  his  realm  and  his 
greatness.  His  words,  therefore,  should  be  faithfully  trans- 
mitted and  reproduced  by  his  ambassador.  I  have  cut  out  of 
your  letter  a  certain  word,  because  it  was  never  pronounced 
by  me.  And  if  your  former  ambassador  were  only  here  I 
would  cut  out  his  lying  tongue  even  as  I  have  cut  out  the  word 
from  your  letter." 

When  this  answer  of  King  Darius's  was  borne  to  King  Al- 
exander he  read  it  and  summoned  before  him  the  faithless 
ambassador.  "  Why,"  said  he,  "  were  you  willing,  with  a 
word,  to  cause  the  loss  of  many  men  and  countries  ?  " 

"  Because  they  showed  me  little  deference  and  did  not  treat 
me  well." 

King  Alexander  said :  "  Foolish  man !  And  you  thought 
that  we  sent  you  to  look  after  your  own  personal  interests,  and 
neglect  those  of  the  nation  ?  "  He  commanded  that  his  tongue 


1 72  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

should  be  torn  out,  and  made  a  proclamation,  saying,  "  This 
is  the  fate  of  traitors  who  falsely  report  the  words  of  kings." 

In  the  Kitab  Tarykh  the  following  is  recounted :  The  Sul- 
tan Homayoun  sent  an  ambassador  to  the  King  of  Khoras- 
san.  When  this  ambassador,  on  his  arrival  in  the  country, 
had  delivered  the  letter  of  the  Sultan  to  the  King,  the  latter 
asked: 

"  How  does  your  King  conduct  himself  regarding  his  sub- 
jects? How  does  he  govern  them?" 

"  The  rule  of  conduct  and  the  mode  of  government  used  by 
my  King,"  answered  the  ambassador,  "  are  to  make  himself 
loved  by  all  his  subjects." 

The  King  asked,  "  Of  what  nature  is  the  affection  of  your 
King  for  his  subjects  ?  " 

"  That  of  a  mother  and  father  for  their  children  and  grand- 
children." 

"  In  hard  and  calamitous  times,  how  does  your  King  con- 
duct himself  ? " 

"  He  shows  that  he  cares  not  for  riches,  for  the  door  of  his 
treasury  is  always  open." 
•  "  In  the  daily  receptions  how  does  your  King  behave  ?  " 

"  The  receptions  of  my  King  resemble  the  gardens  of  Para- 
dise refreshed  by  sweet  breezes  and  scented  with  the  balmy 
breath  of  sweetly  smelling  plants  or  like  a  sea  filled  with 
pearls  and  corals." 

The  King  asked  again,  "  And  in  council  how  speaks  your 
King?" 

The  ambassador  answered,  "  All  those  who  hear  my  King 
in  council  become  wise  if  they  lack  wisdom,  and  brave  if  they 
lack  courage." 

The  King  of  Khorassan  was  enchanted  with  the  answers 
of  the  ambassador,  loaded  him  with  presents,  and  said  to  him : 
"  The  spirit  and  judgment  of  your  King  are  reflected  in  the 
person  of  his  ambassador.  They  should  all  be  like  you."  And 
he  addressed  in  answer  to  the  Sultan  a  letter  filled  with  com- 
pliments and  felicitations. 

In  the  Kitab  Tarykh  it  is  related  that  the  Sultan  Mahmoud 
was  fond  of  his  servant  Ayaz  on  account  of  the  excellence  of 
his  wit  and  judgment.  The  other  servants  of  the  Sultan  were 
jealous  of  Ayaz,  and  murmured  against  him.  One  day  the 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  173 

ministers  and  grandees  were  in  the  presence  of  the  Sultan 
Mahmoud,  and  Ayaz  was  standing  respectfully  before  him. 
Someone  brought  a  cucumber  as  a  present  to  the  Sultan.  The 
Sultan  sliced  it  and  ate  a  morsel.  He  found  it  very  bitter,  but 
gave  no  sign  of  this.  He  handed  a  piece  of  it  to  Ayaz,  saying, 
"  Eat  some  of  this  cucumber  and  tell  me  how  it  tastes,  so  that 
the  others  present  may  eat  some  of  it  also,  and  tell  us  if  they 
ever  ate  anything  like  it."  Ayaz  saluted,  and  ate  of  the  cu- 
cumber with  an  appearance  of  pleasure. 

"  It  is  very  good." 

The  King  made  the  others  eat  of  it.  They  found  that  it 
was  bitter,  and  were  angry  with  Ayaz,  and  asked  how  he  dare 
to  lie  in  such  a  manner. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  the  Sultan ;  "  how  could  you  say  it  was 
good?" 

Ayaz  answered  with  respect :  "  May  the  Lord  bless  the 
king  of  the  world!  How  many  favors  have  you  given  me! 
How  many  sweet  and  savory  dainties !  How,  then,  could  I 
make  a  wry  face  over  one  bitter  morsel  ?  I  ought,  on  the  con- 
trary, to  declare  that  the  bitterness  of  this  mouthful  is  com- 
pletely annulled  by  the  delicious  sweetness  of  the  others,  so 
that  your  Majesty  shall  continue  to  bestow  dainties  upon  me 
as  before." 

A  certain  king,  vain  of  his  royal  power,  had  a  servant  who 
was  very  pious  and  a  true  believer,  very  punctilious  in  the 
practice  of  his  religious  duties.  The  King  distinguished  him 
above  all  the  others  as  one  in  whom  he  could  trust  on  account 
of  the  integrity  of  his  heart.  He  had  given  him  this  order: 
"  Go  not  far  away  from  here,  day  or  night.  Keep  close  watch, 
and  neglect  not  my  service."  The  servant,  after  finishing  his 
religious  duties,  took  his  post,  where  the  King  from  time  to 
time  sent  for  him.  But  the  King  had  need  of  him,  and  he  was 
not  to  be  found.  They  sent  to  look  for  him,  but  in  vain,  and 
the  King  grew  very  angry  with  him.  Finally  the  servant  ar- 
rived and  prostrated  himself  before  the  King.  The  latter,  full 
of  wrath,  demanded : 

"  Why  are  you  late?  Why  don't  you  pay  attention  to  my 
orders  ?  "  And  he  commanded  that  the  man  be  punished,  to 
make  him  more  attentive  to  the  King's  service. 

But  the  servant  replied,  "  If  I  am  late,  it  is  only  on  ac- 


174  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

count  of  the  great  embarrassment  in  which  I  find  myself 
placed." 

"  What  embarrassment  ?    Tell  me." 

The  servant,  bowing  low,  spoke  as  follows :  "  My  embar- 
rassment comes  from  the  fact  that  I  have  two  masters  to  serve. 
The  first  is  the  true  Master,  he  who  created  the  universe  and 
the  children  of  Adam,  whose  punishments  are  very  severe. 
The  second  is  only  the  servant  of  the  former,  and  not  the  true 
master.  I  am  obliged  to  attend  to  the  service  of  the  true  Mas- 
ter before  the  service  of  the  second.  That  is  the  embarrass- 
ment in  which  I  find  myself." 

When  the  King  heard  these  words  he  shed  abundant  tears, 
and  said :  "  From  this  day  forth  you  are  free.  Follow  the  ser- 
vice of  the  Lord,  and  do  not  forget  to  pray  for  me." 

The  servants  of  the  King  should  love  their  King  more  than 
they  love  their  own  life,  their  mother,  their  father,  their  chil- 
dren, their  grandchildren,  their  family,  their  riches,  and  all 
that  belongs  to  them.  In  a  word,  for  them  the  person  of  their 
King  should  be  above  all,  so  that  one  may  call  them  true  ser- 
vants of  the  King,  and  that  in  all  truth  they  may  be  termed 
his  favorites.  They  tell  the  story  that  one  day  the  Sultan 
Mahmoud  Ghazi  (may  grace  be  upon  him !)  was  seated  on  his 
throne,  surrounded  by  his  ministers  and  his  officers,  among 
whom  was  Ayaz.  The  Sultan  said  to  his  treasurer : 

"  Go  to  the  treasure-chamber.  Take  to  a  certain  place  gold, 
silver,  precious  stones,  and  other  objects  of  great  value.  For 
we  are  going  there  to  amuse  ourselves,  and  present  these 
treasures  to  those  who  shall  accompany  us." 

One  day  the  Sultan  started  to  go  and  amuse  himself  at  that 
place,  and  as  soon  as  the  news  spread  abroad,  a  great  number 
of  people  followed  him  there.  When  he  arrived  he  halted  at 
a  spot  level,  clean,  and  well  lighted,  and  said  to  his  treasurer : 

"  Expose  my  treasures  here,  in  this  place,  so  that  all  those 
who  are  happy  shall  obtain  a  present  according  to  their  de- 
gree of  happiness,  and  that  one  may  know  who  are  those  who 
have  the  most  luck  and  those  who  have  the  least." 

All  hearing  these  words  quickly  approached,  pressing  for- 
ward, with  their  eyes  wide  open  and  their  looks  fixed  on  the 
treasurer,  praying  him  to  exhibit  the  presents  at  the  desig- 
nated place.  At  this  very  moment  the  Sultan  spurred  his 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  175 

horse  to  a  gallop  and  rode  from  their  presence.  When  he  was 
far  away  and  out  of  their  sight,  he  stopped  and  looked  be- 
hind him.  There  he  saw  Ayaz,  the  only  one  who  had  followed 
him.  The  others,  preoccupied  with  getting  their  share  of  the 
treasures,  never  suspected  that  the  Sultan  had  gone  and  was 
already  far  away  from  them.  The  Sultan,  halting  a  moment, 
returned  to  the  city. 

On  their  side,  the  ministers  and  the  grandees,  having  taken 
possession  of  the  most  precious  objects,  returned  joyfully  to 
their  homes.  On  the  way  they  compared  notes  with  each 
other  about  their  shares  of  the  treasure.  One  said,  "  I  had  the 
best  luck  " ;  and  another,  "  No,  I  had  the  best."  And  all, 
whoever  they  were,  said  the  same  thing,  for  all  except  Ayaz 
had  their  share  of  the  King's  presents.  So  they  said  among 
themselves,  "  It  is  clear  that  the  one  who  has  no  luck  is 
Ayaz." 

Some  jealous  ones  added :  "  In  truth,  Master  Ayaz  has  no 
luck  at  all.  By  his  lack  of  intelligence  and  good  judgment  he 
has  had  none  of  the  Sultan's  presents." 

Ayaz  heard  all  these  remarks,  but  kept  silence.  Some  days 
later,  the  Sultan  came  out  of  his  palace  and  sat  upon  the 
throne.  All  the  grandees  came  into  his  presence.  Ayaz  was 
standing  before  him.  The  Sultan  asked : 

"  Who  among  you  had  no  luck?  " 

The  ministers  answered :  "  It  is  Ayaz !  He  did  not  get  a 
single  one  of  your  Majesty's  many  presents.  It  is  clear  that 
he  has  no  luck,  for  he  left  all  those  precious  objects  and  came 
back  with  empty  hands." 

The  Sultan  said :  "  O  Ayaz,  are  our  presents  without  value 
in  your  eyes,  that  you  disdain  them  ?  I  don't  know  why  you 
took  nothing  that  was  within  your  grasp.  You  would  have 
prevented  them  from  saying  that  you  have  no  luck.  What 
was  your  motive  in  doing  a  thing  that  has  the  approbation  of 
nobody  ?  " 

Ayaz  responded :  "  May  the  days  and  prosperity  of  the 
King  increase!  May  the  presents  never  tarnish  that  he  has 
given  to  his  servants.  As  for  me,  I  have  more  luck  than  those 
who  received  the  presents  of  your  Majesty." 

The  Sultan  said,  "  O  Ayaz,  prove  to  me  the  truth  of  your 
words." 


176  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

Ayaz  responded :  "  If  they  found  some  part  in  the  lar- 
gesses which  were  given  them,  I  found  the  author  himself 
of  those  great  gifts.  If  they  found  gold,  I  found  the  master 
of  the  gold.  If  others  found  silver,  I  found  the  master  of  sil- 
ver. If  others  found  precious  stones,  I  found  the  master  of 
precious  stones.  If  others  yet  found  some  pearls,  I  found  the 
ocean  of  pearls.  Who,  therefore,  O  king  of  the  world,  among 
all  those  who  vaunt  themselves  as  having  luck,  has  more  than 
I  have?" 

The  Sultan  replied :  "  O  Ayaz,  tell  me  what  is  the  meaning 
of  your  words.  Where  is  all  that  which  you  say  you  found  ?  " 

Ayaz  responded :  "  May  the  most  high  protect  the  person 
of  the  king  of  the  world,  more  precious  to  me  than  all  those 
objects  of  price !  In  whatever  place  may  be  his  august  per- 
son, there  I  am,  and  I  thus  obtain  all  that  my  heart  desires. 
When  I  am  with  your  Majesty,  and  your  Majesty  is  with  me, 
what  do  I  lack  ?  Who,  then,  has  more  luck  than  I  have  ?  " 

One  day  the  Sultan  Alexander  was  plunged  in  sadness,  and 
kept  himself  shut  up  in  his  palace.  The  wise  Aristotle  came 
before  him,  and  seeing  him  absorbed  in  sad  thoughts,  asked 
him: 

"  Why  is  the  Sultan  so  sad  and  what  keeps  him  from  going 
out  of  his  palace  ?  " 

The  Sultan  Alexander  answered :  "  I  am  grieving  at  the 
thought  of  the  smallness  of  this  world,  and  of  all  the  troubles 
I  am  giving  myself  and  others  for  the  sake  of  reigning  over  a 
world  that  is  so  little  worth.  It  is  the  vanity  of  my  works 
that  renders  me  sad." 

Aristotle  replied :  "  The  reflection  of  the  Sultan  is  just,  for 
what,  in  truth,  is  the  world?  Certainly  it  has  not  enough 
importance  by  itself  that  the  Sultan  should  occupy  himself 
with  a  vain  kingdom.  But  the  government  of  this  world  is  a 
mark  of  the  sublime  and  eternal  kingdom  of  the  other  world, 
and  this  kingdom  the  Sultan  can  obtain  by  governing  this 
present  world  with  justice.  Your  Majesty  must  therefore 
give  all  his  cares  to  the  government  of  this  world,  to  obtain 
finally  in  the  other  world  a  kingdom  of  which  the  greatness  is 
beyond  measure  and  the  duration  is  eternal." 

The  Sultan  Alexander  heard  with  pleasure  the  words  of 
his  wise  counsellor. 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  177 

Two  qualities  are  essential  to  kings,  generosity  and  mag- 
nanimity. When  a  minister  remarks,  in  his  king,  sentiments 
unworthy  of  his  rank,  he  should  warn  him  of  the  fact,  and 
should  turn  him  from  unworthy  actions.  They  tell  that  a 
king,  having  made  a  gift  of  500  dirhems,  his  minister  said  to 
him :  "  I  have  heard  from  the  mouth  of  wise  men  that  it  is 
not  permitted  to  kings  to  make  a  present  of  less  than  1,000 
dirhems !  " 

One  day  Haroun-er-Raschid  made  a  gift  of  500  tahil.  His 
minister,  named  Yahya,  made  by  signs  and  by  gestures  every 
effort  to  prevent  him  from  doing  this.  When  all  those  who 
had  been  present  were  gone,  Haroun-er-Raschid  said : 

"  O  Yahya !  what  were  you  trying  to  do  with  all  your 
signs?" 

The  latter  replied :  "  O  prince  of  true  believers !  I  was 
trying  to  say  that  kings  should  never  let  it  be  seen  that  they 
are  capable  of  making  presents  of  less  than  1,000  dirhems." 

One  day  King  Mamoun-er-Raschid  heard  his  minister, 
named  Abbas,  say  to  a  servant,  "  Go  to  the  bazaar  and  buy 
something  with  this  half-tahil." 

Mamoun-er-Raschid  was  angry  with  him  and  said :  "  You 
are  capable  of  dividing  a  tahil  in  two !  That  is  not  proper  in 
a  minister;  you  are  not  worthy  of  the  name,"  and  he  forth- 
with desposed  him  from  office. 

In  the  Kitab  Sifat-el-Molouk  it  is  related  that  the  King 
Chabour,  giving  his  last  instructions  to  his  son,  said  as  fol- 
lows :  "  O  my  son !  whenever  you  make  a  present  to  anyone, 
do  not  bestow  it  with  your  own  hands.  Do  not  even  examine 
or  have  brought  into  your  own  presence  the  gifts  that  you 
make.  Whenever  you  give  a  present,  see  that  it  be  at  least 
the  equivalent  of  the  revenue  of  a  town  in  value,  so  that  it 
will  enrich  the  recipients,  and  make  them  and  their  children 
and  grandchildren  free  from  adversity.  Furthermore,  my 
child,  beware  all  your  life  of  giving  yourself  up  to  operations 
of  commerce  in  your  kingdom.  For  this  kind  of  affairs  is 
unworthy  a  king  who  has  greatness  of  character,  prosperity, 
and  birth." 

King  Harmuz  received  one  day  a  letter  from  his  minister 
in  which  he  said :  "  Many  merchants  being  in  town  with  a 
great  quantity  of  jewels,  pearls,  hyacinths,  rubies,  diamonds, 

12 


I78  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

and  other  precious  stones,  I  bought  all  they  had  for  your 
Majesty,  paying  200,000  tahil.  Immediately  afterward  there 
arrived  some  merchants  from  another  country  who  wanted 
to  buy  these  and  offered  me  a  profit  of  200,000  tahil.  If  the 
King  consents  I  will  sell  the  jewels,  and  later  buy  others." 

King  Harmuz  wrote  to  his  minister  the  following  response : 
"  What  are  200,000  tahil  ?  What  are  400,000  tahil,  profit  in- 
cluded? Is  that  worth  talking  about  and  making  so  much 
ado  ?  If  you  are  going  into  the  operations  of  commerce  who 
will  look  after  the  government?  If  you  buy  and  sell,  what 
will  become  of  the  merchants?  It  is  evident  that  you  would 
destroy  thus  our  good  renown,  and  that  you  are  the  enemy 
of  the  merchants  of  our  kingdom,  for  your  designs  would 
ruin  them.  Your  sentiments  are  unworthy  a  minister."  And 
for  this  he  removed  him  from  office. 

In  the  Kitab  Sifat-el-Houkama  it  is  said :  "  There  is  a  great 
diversity  of  inclinations  among  men.  Everyone  has  his  own 
propensity.  One  is  borne  naturally  toward  riches,  another 
toward  patience  and  resignation,  another  toward  study  and 
good  works.  And  in  this  world  the  humors  of  men  are  so 
varied  that  they  all  differ  in  nature.  Among  this  infinite 
variety  of  dispositions  of  soul,  that  which  best  suits  kings  and 
ministers  is  greatness  of  character,  for  that  quality  is  the  orna- 
ment of  royalty. 

"  One  day  the  minister  of  the  Sultan  Haroun-er-Raschid 
was  returning  from  the  council  of  state  to  his  house  when 
he  was  approached  by  a  beggar  who  said :  '  O  Yahya !  misery 
brings  me  to  you.  I  pray  you  give  me  something.' 

"  When  Yahya  had  arrived  at  his  house  he  made  the  beggar 
sit  down  at  the  door,  and  calling  an  attendant  said  to  him: 
'  Every  day  give  this  man  1,000  dinars,  and  for  his  food  give 
him  his  part  in  the  provisions  consumed  in  your  house/ 

"  They  say  that  for  a  month  the  beggar  came  every  day 
and  sat  at  Yahya's  door,  and  received  the  sum  of  1,000  dinars. 
When  he  had  received  them  at  the  end  of  the  month,  30,000 
dinars,  the  beggar  went  away.  When  informed  of  his  de- 
parture, Yahya  said :  '  By  the  Lord !  if  he  had  not  gone  away, 
and  had  come  to  my  door  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  I  should  have 
given  him  the  same  daily  ration.'  " 

In  the  Kitab  Tarykh  the  following  is  told :  "  There  was 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  179 

once  upon  a  time  a  Persian  king  named  Khrosrou,  remarkable 
among  all  the  kings  of  Persia  for  his  power,  his  greatness  of 
character,  his  goodness,  and  the  purity  of  his  morals.  His 
wife,  named  Chirine,  was  of  a  rare  beauty,  and  no  one  at  that 
time  could  be  compared  to  her,  for  she  possessed  all  the  virtues. 
Khrosrou  passionately  loved  Chirine,  and  among  the  books, 
famous  in  the  world,  which  speak  of  loving  couples,  there  is 
one  called  '  Khrosrou  and  Chirine.'  One  day  Khrosrou  was 
seated  in  the  palace  with  his  wife  Chirine,  when  a  fisherman 
brought  in  a  fine  fish  as  a  present  to  Khrosrou.  The  latter 
ordered  them  to  give  him  a  present  of  4,000  dirhems. 

"  '  You  are  wrong/  said  Chirine. 

"  '  And  why?  '  asked  the  King. 

"  '  If,  in  the  future,  you  made  one  of  your  servants  a  present 
of  4,000  dirhems  he  will  not  fail  to  say  forthwith,  "  I  am  con- 
sidered as  the  equal  of  a  fisherman."  If  your  present  is  less 
than  4,000  dirhems,  then  necessarily  he  will  say,  "  I  am  con- 
sidered as  being  less  than  a  fisherman,"  and  your  actions  will 
sadden  his  heart.' 

"  Khrosrou  said :  '  Your  observation  is  just.  But  I  have 
spoken,  and  I  cannot  reverse  what  I  have  said,  for  it  is  shame- 
ful for  a  king  to  fail  in  keeping  his  word.' 

"  Chirine  replied,  '  Never  mind,  I  know  a  way,  and  no  one 
can  say  that  you  broke  your  promise.' 

"  '  What  is  this  way  ?  '  asked  Khrosrou. 

"  Chirine  answered :  '  Put  this  question  to  the  fisherman, 
"  Is  this  a  fresh-water  or  a  salt-water  fish  ?  " 

"  '  If  he  answers,  "  It  is  a  fresh-water  fish,"  say,  "  I  want  a 
salt-water  one,"  and  the  contrary.  Then  he  will  go  away  and 
you  will  be  released  from  your  foolish  promise.' 

"  Khrosrou,  who  by  love  of  Chirine  could  not  help  hearing 
her  advice  and  following  it,  put  the  question  to  the  fisherman. 
But  the  latter,  suspecting  a  trap,  said,  '  It  is  both.'  King 
Khrosrou  began  to  laugh,  and  gave  him  4,000  dirhems  in 
addition. 

"  The  fisherman,  having  received  his  8,000  dirhems,  put 
them  in  a  sack  and  went  away.  On  the  journey,  a  dirhem  fell 
to  the  ground,  and  the  fisherman,  lowering  his  sack,  began  to 
search  for  the  dirhem  that  had  fallen.  When  he  found  it,  he 
place'd  it  with  the  others  and  took  up  his  march  again. 


i8o  MALAYAN   LITERATURE 

Khrosrou  and  Chirine  had  both  been  witnesses  of  his  action. 
Chirine  said  to  Khrosrou :  '  Behold  the  baseness  and  the 
lack  of  judgment  of  the  fisherman.  He  wearied  himself  to 
hunt  for  one  dirhem  when  he  had  a  sack  full  of  them.  Recall 
him  and  do  him  shame.' 

"  Khrosrou,  who  from  his  love  for  Chirine  was  incapable 
of  resisting  her  words,  and  always  obeyed  them,  recalled  the 
fisherman  and  said  to  him :  '  Of  a  truth,  you  have  a  low  soul, 
and  possess  neither  judgment  nor  dignity.  What !  One  of 
your  8,000  dirhems  was  lost  and  you  deferred  your  journey 
until  you  had  found  it  ?  That  shows  the  baseness  of  your  soul 
and  your  lack  of  judgment.' 

"  The  fisherman  made  obeisance  and  answered :  '  May  the 
prosperity  of  the  king  of  the  world  increase!  I  sought  not 
the  dirhem  on  account  of  its  money  value,  but  only  on  account 
of  the  greatness  and  importance  of  the  words  engraved  upon 
the  coin.  On  one  of  its  sides  is  written  the  name  of  God  most 
high.  On  the  other  side  is  written  the  name  of  the  King. 
Had  I  not  found  the  dirhem,  and  had  left  it  on  the  ground, 
then  people  passing  would  have  trodden  upon  it,  and  the  two 
names  inscribed  upon  it,  and  which  ought  to  be  glorified 
by  all  men,  would  have  been  despised  and  disgraced,  and  I 
would  have  been  the  accomplice  of  all  the  passers-by  who 
trod  upon  it.  That  is  why  I  took  the  trouble  to  find  the 
dirhem.' 

"  Khrosrou  was  pleased  with  this  answer  and  gave  him  still 
another  4,000  dirhems.  The  fisherman,  filled  with  joy,  took 
his  12,000  dirhems  and  returned  to  his  home." 

A  man  had  committed  a  serious  offence  against  King 
Haroun-er-Raschid.  Condemned  to  death,  he  succeeded  in 
escaping.  But  he  had  a  brother.  The  King  summoned  the 
latter  and  said  to  him :  "  Find  your  brother  so  that  I  may 
kill  him.  If  you  do  not  find  him  I  will  kill  you  in  his  place." 
This  man  not  finding  his  brother,  the  King  Mamoun-er- 
Raschid  ordered  one  of  his  servants  to  bring  him  to  be  killed. 
But  this  servant  said :  "  O  prince  of  believers !  if  the  one  who 
received  the  command  to  put  this  man  to  death  brings  him 
for  that  purpose  and  at  the  same  time  a  messenger  comes 
from  your  Majesty  with  an  order  not  to  kill  him,  ought  he 
not  to  release  him  ?  " 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  181 

King  Mamoun-er-Raschid  answered,  "  He  certainly  ought 
to  release  him,  on  account  of  my  orders." 

"  O  prince  of  believers,"  answered  the  servant,  "  the  Koran 
says,  '  He  who  has  a  burden  shall  not  bear  another's.'  " 

Then  the  King  said :  "  Set  the  man  free,  for  this  must 
cover  his  case,  and  means  that  the  innocent  should  not  perish 
for  the  guilty." 

They  tell  that,  a  pundit  appearing  one  day  before  the  Sultan 
Ismail  Samani,  King  of  the  country  of  Khorassan,  the  Sultan 
received  him  with  great  distinction,  and  at  his  departure 
saluted  him  most  respectfully  and  escorted  him  to  the  door, 
taking  seven  steps  behind  him. 

The  next  night  he  dreamed  that  the  glorious  prophet  (with 
whom  be  peace!)  spoke  thus  to  him:  "O  Ismail,  because 
you  honored  one  of  my  pundits,  I  will  pray  God  that  after  you 
seven  of  your  children  and  grandchildren  shall  become  great 
and  glorious  kings."  They  say  that  for  many  years  the  king- 
dom of  Khorassan  flourished  under  the  paternal  government 
of  the  successors  of  this  Sultan. 

The  Sultan  Abdallah  Tlahir,  as  soon  as  he  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  the  throne  of  Khorassan,  received  the  homage  of  a 
large  number  of  his  subjects.  At  the  end  of  several  days  he 
asked,  "  Is  there  anyone  of  distinction  in  the  country  who 
has  not  come  to  present  himself  before  me?  "  They  told  him, 
"  There  are  two  persons  that  have  not  come,  one  named 
Ahmed  Arab,  and  the  other  named  Mahomet  Islam.  But 
these  two  men  never  present  themselves  before  kings  and 
ministers." 

The  Sultan  replied,  "  Since  they  will  not  come  to  find  kings 
and  ministers,  I  must  go  to  them."  So  one  day  the  Sultan 
repaired  to  the  house  of  Ahmed  Arab.  The  latter,  imme- 
diately arising,  remained  standing  a  long  time  facing  the 
Sultan.  Then  regarding  him  fixedly  he  said  to  him :  "  O 
Sultan,  I  had  heard  tell  of  your  beauty,  and  I  now  see  that 
they  spoke  the  truth.  Make  not  of  that  body  the  embers 
of  hell."  Saying  this  he  returned  to  his  prayers.  The 
Sultan  Abdallah  Tlahir  went  away  from  the  sheik's  house 
weeping. 

He  then  betook  himself  to  the  house  of  Mahomet  Islam. 
At  the  news  that  the  Sultan  was  coming  to  see  him,  the  sheik 


i8*  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

shut  the  door  of  his  house,  saying :  "  I  ought  not  to  see  him. 
I  ought  not  to  speak  to  him." 

The  Sultan  departed  in  tears  and  said :  "  Friday,  when  the 
sheik  goes  to  the  mosque  I  will  go  to  him." 

When  Friday  came  he  was  on  horseback,  surrounded  by 
soldiers,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  sheik.  As  soon  as  he  per- 
ceived him,  he  dismounted,  approached  him  on  foot,  and 
saluted  him.  The  sheik  asked :  "  Who  are  you  ?  What  do 
you  want  of  me  ?  " 

The  Sultan  answered :  "  It  is  I,  Abdallah  Tlahir.  I  have 
come  to  see  the  sheik." 

The  latter,  turning  away  his  face,  said  to  the  Sultan,  "  What 
connection  is  there  between  you  and  me  ?  " 

The  Sultan  fell  at  the  feet  of  the  sheik,  in  tears,  in  the  middle 
of  the  highway,  and,  invoking  God  the  most  high,  spoke  as 
follows,  "  O  Lord,  forgive  my  faults,  on  account  of  the  many 
virtues  of  this  faithful  sheik."  And  he  was  forgiven  and  be- 
came a  good  man. 

The  imam  El-Chafei  (may  mercy  be  with  him!),  going  from 
the  city  of  Jerusalem  to  the  country  of  Egypt,  halted  in  a  town 
called  Ramla.  One  of  the  inhabitants  of  this  town  took  him 
into  his  house  and  entertained  him  with  many  attentions.  The 
companions  of  the  imam .  El-Chafei  perceived  that  he  felt  a 
certain  inquietude,  but  none  of  them  knew  the  reason  for  it. 
The  more  the  master  of  the  house  showered  his  attentions 
and  civilities,  the  more  disturbed  the  imam  seemed  to  be. 
Finally  at  the  moment  when  the  imam  was  mounting  his  horse 
to  continue  his  journey,  the  master  of  the  house  arrived  and 
put  a  writing  into  his  hands.  On  reading  this,  the  imam  lost  his 
worried  air,  and,  giving  orders  to  pay  the  man  thirty  dinars, 
he  went  on  his  way  rejoicing.  One  of  his  companions  asked 
him: 

"  Why  were  you  so  disturbed?  What  did  the  writing  say? 
And  why  did  you  show  so  much  joy  in  reading  it?  " 

The  imam  El-Chafei  answered :  "  When  our  host  took  us 
to  his  house  I  noticed  that  his  face  lacked  the  characteristic 
signs  of  honesty.  But  as  he  treated  us  so  well  I  began  to  think 
perhaps  I  was  mistaken  in  judging  him.  But  when  I  read  the 
writing  he  handed  me  I  saw  it  was  as  follows :  '  While  the 
imam  has  been  here  I  have  spent  on  him  ten  dinars.  He  ought 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  183 

therefore  to  pay  me  back  twenty.'  So  then  I  knew  that  I  had 
made  no  error  in  reading  his  character,  and  was  pleased  at 
my  skill." 

The  story  is  told  that  one  day  as  the  prophet  Solomon  was 
seated  on  his  royal  throne,  surrounded  by  men,  spirits,  and 
birds,  two  women  came  before  him,  each  claiming  possession 
of  a  child.  These  two  women  kept  saying,  "  It  is  my  child," 
but  neither  could  give  proof.  All  their  arguments  amounting 
to  nothing,  the  prophet  Solomon  commanded  that  the  child 
should  be  cut  in  two,  and  that  each  woman  should  take  half. 
When  the  executioner  advanced,  drawing  his  sword,  one  of 
the  women  bursting  into  sobs  cried  out  in  anguish :  "  O 
Prophet  Solomon,  don't  kill  the  child.  Give  it  to  this  woman, 
it  is  all  I  ask !  " 

As  the  murder  of  the  child  never  drew  a  tear  nor  a  move- 
ment of  anxiety  from  the  other  woman,  Solomon  commanded 
them  to  give  it  to  the  woman  who  had  wept,  because  her  tears 
proved  her  to  be  the  true  mother,  and  that  the  child  belonged 
to  her,  and  not  to  the  other  woman.  Thus  did  King  Solomon 
show  his  wisdom  in  judging  character. 

O  you  who  are  magnificent !  listen,  I  pray  you,  and  hear  to 
what  degree  of  sublimity  generosity  is  lifted.  In  the  Kitab 
Adab-is-Selathin  it  is  said  that  two  qualities  were  given  by 
God  in  all  their  perfection  to  two  men — justice  to  Sultan 
Nouchirvan,  King  of  Persia,  and  generosity  to  a  subject  of 
an  Arab  sultan  named  Hatim-Thai.  The  author  of  that  work 
says  that  in  the  time  of  Hatim-Thai  there  were  three  kings 
celebrated  throughout  the  whole  world,  and  rivals  in  showing 
the  perfection  of  generosity — the  King  of  Roum,  the  King  of 
Syria,  and  the  King  of  Yemen.  But  as  none  of  them  was  as 
famous  as  Hatim-Thai,  they  became  jealous  of  him  and  united 
in  hostility  toward  him.  They  said :  "  We  are  the  kings  of 
vast  countries,  and  shall  we  suffer  a  simple  subject  of  an  Arab 
sultan  to  be  counted  as  more  generous  than  we  are  ?  "  And 
each  of  these  kings  thought  to  try  Hatim-Thai  and  destroy 
him. 

The  first  of  the  three  who  attempted  the  undertaking  was 
the  King  of  Roum.  This  King  said  to  one  of  his  ministers : 
"O  minister,  I  hear  tell  that  there  is  among  the  Arabs  a  man 
named  Hatim-Thai,  and  that  he  is  reputed  the  most  generous 


1 84  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

man  in  the  world.  I  am  displeased  that  my  name  is  not  as 
noted  for  generosity  as  his.  I  want  to  make  a  proof  and  see 
if  his  fame  is  true  or  false.  I  have  heard  that  Hatim-Thai 
possesses  a  horse  which  he  loves  as  he  does  his  own  soul. 
Well,  we  will  ask  him  to  give  us  this  beloved  horse." 

The  minister  sent  an  envoy,  with  suitable  presents  and  a 
letter  to  give  to  Hatim-Thai.  He  arrived  in  a  great  storm  of 
wind  and  rain  which  permitted  no  one  to  attend  to  his  affairs 
abroad.  It  was  already  night,  and  Hatim-Thai  had  made  no 
preparations  to  receive  a  guest,  but  he  received  the  stranger 
with  the  marks  of  the  highest  respect  and  greatest  cordiality. 

"  What  need  brings  you  here  to-night  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing  but  to  visit  you,"  replied  the  envoy,  and  he  never 
mentioned  that  evening  his  mission  from  the  King  of  Roum. 

As  there  was  nothing  in  the  house  to  eat,  Hatim-Thai  killed 
his  favorite  horse  and  served  it  for  his  guest's  supper.  As  soon 
as  it  was  day,  the  envoy  presented  the  gifts  and  the  letter  from 
the  King  of  Roum.  When  he  read  the  passage  in  the  letter 
where  the  King  asked  for  the  horse  which  had  just  been  killed, 
Hatim-Thai  turned  pale  and  could  not  say  a  word.  The  en- 
voy, observing  him  in  this  state,  imagined  that  he  regretted 
the  gift  of  his  horse,  and  said : 

"  O  Hatim-Thai,  if  it  is  not  with  pleasure  that  you  give  your 
horse  to  my  master,  think  no  more  about  it,  and  let  me  return 
to  my  country." 

Hatim-Thai  answered :  "  O  envoy  of  the  King  of  Roum ! 
if  I  had  a  thousand  horses  like  that  one  I  should  give  them  all 
without  a  moment's  hesitation.  But  last  night  I  asked  you 
the  motive  which  brought  you  hither,  and  you  said  it  was 
merely  to  visit  me.  So  I  killed  the  horse  for  your  food,  and 
that  is  why  I  am  afflicted  with  sorrow  at  my  lack  of  foresight." 
He  sent  the  envoy  back  home  with  many  other  horses  as  a  gift. 

The  envoy  told  the  whole  story  and  the  King  of  Roum  said : 
"  The  renown  of  Hatim-Thai  is  deserved ;  he  is  the  most  gen- 
erous of  men."  He  made  an  alliance  of  friendship  with  him, 
and  the  fame  of  Hatim-Thai  grew  apace. 

The  second  one  who  tested  Hatim-Thai's  generosity  was 
the  King  of  Syria.  He  said :  "  How  can  Hatim-Thai,  who 
lives  in  the  woods  and  the  plains,  occupied  in  pasturing  goats, 
camels,  and  horses,  be  more  generous  than  so  great  a  King 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  185 

as  I?  I  will  put  him  to  the  proof.  I  will  ask  rich  presents 
that  he  cannot  give,  and  he  will  be  shamed  and  humiliated 
before  kings  and  peoples." 

So  the  King  of  Syria  sent  an  envoy  to  Hatim-Thai  to  ask 
for  100  red  camels  with  long  manes,  black  eyes,  and  very  tall. 
Camels  of  this  sort  are  hard  to  find,  only  kings  having  four 
or  five.  When  the  envoy  had  arrived  he  told  Hatim-Thai 
what  the  King  of  Syria  asked  of  him.  Hatim-Thai  was  full  of 
joy  hearing  the  words  of  the  envoy,  and  hastened  to  regale 
him  bountifully  with  food  and  drink.  Then  he  searched  among 
his  camels,  but  found  none  such  as  the  King  of  Syria  desired. 
He  ordered  search  to  be  made  among  the  peoples  of  his  nation, 
Arabs  and  Bedouins,  offering  a  large  price.  By  the  will  of 
God  a  Bedouin  succeeded  in  finding  100,  and  Hatim-Thai 
asked  only  the  delay  of  one  month  in  payment.  The  envoy 
returned  home  with  the  red  camels  and  many  other  presents. 
Seeing  them,  the  King  of  Syria  was  struck  with  astonishment 
and  cried :  "  Behold,  we  wished  only  to  test  Hatim-Thai,  and 
now  he  has  gone  into  debt  to  satisfy  our  desire.  Yes,  truly 
he  is  the  most  generous  man  in  the  world." 

He  commanded  them  to  send  back  to  Hatim-Thai  the  100 
red  camels  loaded  with  magnificent  presents.  As  soon  as  they 
arrived,  Hatim-Thai  summoned  the  owner  and  gave  him  the 
camels  with  all  their  burden  of  riches,  without  keeping  any- 
thing for  himself.  When  the  envoy,  returning  home  again, 
recounted  all  these  things,  the  King  of  Syria  marvelled  and 
exclaimed :  "  No  one  can  equal  Hatim-Thai.  He  is  gen- 
erosity itself,  in  all  its  perfection." 

The  third  king,  that  is,  the  King  of  Yemen,  was  very  gen- 
erous, and  wanted  no  one  to  rival  him  in  this  particular.  So 
when  he  heard  of  the  fame  of  Hatim-Thai  for  generosity,  he 
was  vexed  and  full  of  sorrow.  He  said :  "  How  can  that 
poor  Hatim  equal  in  generosity  a  great  king  like  me  ?  I  give 
alms  to  the  poor,  I  feed  them,  and  every  day  I  give  them  cloth- 
ing. How  is  it  possible  that  anyone  can  dare  to  mention  the 
name  of  Hatim-Thai  in  my  presence  as  the  most  generous  of 
men?" 

Now,  at  that  time  an  ambassador  of  the  King  of  Maghreb 
arrived  at  the  Court  of  the  King  of  Yemen,  who  spoke  of  the 
wonderful  generosity  of  Hatim-Thai.  He  felt  as  if  his  heart 


,86  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

was  burning,  but  did  not  let  his  grief  appear,  and  said  to  him- 
self: 

"  Everybody  repeats  the  praises  of  Hatim,  one  after  another, 
without  knowing  exactly  who  he  is,  of  what  birth,  and  what 
are  the  means  which  permit  him  thus  to  give  hospitality.  I  shall 
cause  him  to  perish." 

The  King  of  Yemen  summoned  a  Bedouin,  a  bandit  cele- 
brated for  his  ferocity,  without  pity  for  the  life  of  a  man.  The 
Bedouin  arrived,  and  the  King  gave  him  gold,  silver,  and 
clothing.  "  O  Bedouin,"  he  said  to  him,  "  if  you  will  perform 
an  affair  for  us,  we  will  give  you  whatever  you  ask." 

The  Bedouin  answered :  "  O  my  lord,  king  of  the  world, 
what  is  your  Majesty's  will?" 

The  King  of  Yemen  replied :  "  There  is  a  man  named 
Hatim-Thai,  of  the  tribe  of  Thai,  on  the  confines  of  Syria.  Go 
to  this  country,  and  employ  all  the  tricks  you  can  to  kill  him. 
When  you  have  killed  him  bring  me  his  head.  If  you  succeed 
in  doing  as  I  wish,  whatever  you  ask,  it  shall  be  given  you." 

These  words  of  the  King  filled  with  joy  the  Bedouin's  heart. 
He  said  to  himself :  "  Here  is  a  good  piece  of  work.  For  an 
old  tattered  cloak  I  will  kill  a  man.  Why  then  should  I  hesi- 
tate a  moment  for  a  superb  cloak  of  scarlet  ?  " 

Taking  leave  of  the  King,  the  Bedouin  set  out  promptly  and 
went  toward  Syria  in  search  of  Hatim-Thai.  After  a  while 
he  arrived  at  a  village  near  to  Syria,  and  there  he  met  a  young 
man  of  a  rare  beauty.  His  face  bore  the  marks  of  virtue,  his 
language  was  full  of  sweetness  and  affability,  his  soul  was 
righteous,  and  his  heart  compassionate.  He  asked  the 
Bedouin  where  he  was  going.  The  latter  answered,  "  I  am 
from  the  country  of  Yemen,  and  am  going  to  Syria." 

The  young  man  replied :  "  O  my  brother !  I  wish  you  would 
do  me  the  favor  to  rest  for  a  day  and  a  night  in  my  house, 
and  I  will  do  the  best  to  entertain  you.  After  that  you  shall 
go  on  your  journey  when  you  wish." 

The  Bedouin  heard  these  words  with  pleasure,  and  went  into 
the  young  man's  house.  There  he  was  treated  magnificently 
and  regaled  so  lavishly  that  he  thought  he  had  never  seen  and 
eaten  so  much.  He  slept  peacefully  all  night.  At  dawn  he 
said  farewell,  eager  to  gain  the  end  of  his  journey.  The  young 
man  said  to  him :  "  O  my  brother,  if  it  is  possible,  stay  two 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  ^7 

or  three  days  longer,  I  beg  you,  so  that  by  my  hospitality  I 
may  show  all  the  sincere  affection  that  my  heart  feels  for  you." 

The  Bedouin  replied :  "  O  my  brother,  truly  would  I  re- 
main some  time  longer  here,  had  I  not  a  most  important  and 
delicate  mission  to  fulfil.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  stay  and 
enjoy  myself  here,  while  I  have  not  yet  accomplished  my 
errand." 

The  young  man  answered :  "  O  my  brother,  what  is  this 
difficult  and  delicate  affair  which  prevents  you  from  staying 
here  ?  If  you  will  tell  me,  doubtless  I  shall  find  some  means 
of  coming  to  your  aid,  and  lightening  the  burden  which  weighs 
so  heavily  upon  your  heart.  But,  now,  what  can  I  do  since 
you  tell  me  nothing  ?  " 

Hearing  these  words,  the  Bedouin  kept  silence.  He  said 
to  himself :  "  This  affair  is  not  easy  to  execute.  It  might  be 
of  use  for  me  to  have  a  prudent  and  discreet  companion  to 
confer  with  him  about  it.  Perhaps  I  should  do  well  to  talk 
of  it  to  this  young  man  and  ask  his  advice." 

And  nevertheless  he  dared  not  yet  trust  his  secret,  and  his 
perplexity  was  written  on  his  countenance.  He  could  not 
utter  a  single  word,  and  remained  very  anxious. 

The  young  man  observing  the  state  of  the  Bedouin  said  to 
him :  "  O  servant  of  God,  your  embarrassment  is  evident ; 
you  fear  to  open  your  heart  to  me.  God  alone,  in  truth,  knows 
the  secrets  of  his  servants.  But,  in  your  present  situation,  it 
may  be  that  I  can  be  of  some  benefit  to  you." 

The  Bedouin,  hearing  these  words  of  the  young  man,  said 
to  him :  "  O  my  loyal  friend,  know  then  that  I  am  an  Arab- 
Bedouin  of  the  country  of  Yemen ;  that  of  all  the  Bedouins  of 
Arabia  there  is  not  one  so  wicked  nor  so  great  a  thief  as  I,  and 
that  my  fame  as  a  bandit  is  celebrated  throughout  all  Yemen. 
The  King,  having  resolved  upon  a  wicked  deed,  ordered  his 
minister  to  find  a  man  capable  of  performing  it.  As  I  had  the 
reputation  of  being  the  greatest  bandit  of  the  country  of 
Yemen,  I  was  summoned  to  the  presence  of  the  King.  As 
soon  as  his  Majesty  saw  me  he  loaded  me  with  presents  and 
said :  '  If  you  do  as  I  wish  I  will  give  you  many  more  presents 
of  gold  and  silver  and  other  magnificent  things.'  I  replied, 
'O  my  lord,  king  of  the  world,  what  is  this  affair?'  'You 
must  go  and  kill  a  man  named  Hatim-Thai,  who  lives  on  the 


1 88  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

confines  of  Syria.'  To  this  I  replied :  '  O  my  lord,  king  of  the 
world,  I  am  only  a  Bedouin,  a  poor  robber,  wandering  in  the 
forests  and  the  plains.  For  drink  I  have  but  the  brackish 
water  of  the  marshes.  For  food  I  have  only  rats  and  locusts.' 
On  account  of  my  wretchedness,  I  obeyed  the  wishes  of  the 
King,  and  promised  to  execute  this  affair.  But  here  I  am,  in 
a  very  embarrassing  situation,  for  I  do  not  know  this  Hatim- 
Thai,  and  I  don't  even  know  where  his  tribe  is,  the  Ben-Thai." 

The  young  man,  hearing  these  words,  began  to  laugh,  and 
said :  "  O  my  brother,  be  not  disturbed.  I  know  this  Hatim- 
Thai,  and  I  will  show  him  to  you."  These  words  rejoiced  the 
Bedouin.  The  young  man  continued :  "  O  my  brother,  know 
that  the  tribe  of  Ben-Thai  inhabit  this  village,  and  that  the 
man  named  Hatim-Thai  is  himself  in  this  tribe.  If  you  will 
follow  exactly  what  I  indicate  to  you,  you  will  certainly  ac- 
complish your  mission." 

The  Bedouin  answered :  "  O  my  brother,  I  place  my  life 
in  your  hands.  What  must  be  done  ?  " 

The  young  man  answered :  "  O  my  brother,  there  is  a  place 
where  Hatim-Thai  goes  for  recreation.  It  is  an  extremely 
deserted  place,  which  no  one  ever  visits.  When  he  gets  there 
he  eats,  drinks,  and  then  he  sleeps,  his  head  covered  with  a 
cloth,  and  his  horse  tied  near  by.  You  will  arrive  at  that  mo- 
ment, you  will  promptly  execute  the  wish  of  the  King,  you 
will  jump  upon  the  horse  and  dash  away  from  this  place  and 
go  wherever  you  like." 

The  young  man  went  then  to  show  the  place  to  the  Bed- 
ouin, and  giving  him  a  poniard  with  two  edges  well  sharp- 
ened, he  said :  "  O  my  brother,  to-morrow  Hatim-Thai  will 
come  to  this  spot.  Forget  nothing  that  you  have  to  do." 

All  the  instruction  of  the  young  man  were  followed  by  the 
Bedouin.  Early  in  the  morning  Hatim-Thai  repaired  to  the 
designated  place.  He  ate,  he  drank,  and  when  he  had  finished 
his  repast  he  tied  his  horse  near  by.  Then,  covering  his  head 
with  a  cloth,  he  fell  fast  asleep.  At  this  very  moment  the 
wicked  Bedouin  arrived.  By  the  will  of  God,  just  as  he  was 
about  to  assassinate  the  young  man,  a  thought  came  into  his 
heart.  "  Hatim-Thai  is  celebrated  throughout  the  whole 
world  for  his  generosity  and  his  benevolence.  Before  I  kill 
him,  while  he  is  still  alive,  I  want  to  see  his  face."  And  he 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  189 

raised  the  cloth  that  covered  his  head.  At  the  sight  of  the 
countenance  of  the  sleeping  young  man  he  fell  at  his  feet  and 
covered  them  with  kisses,  saying :  "  O  my  friend !  What 
have  you  done  ?  You  ought  not  to  act  thus !  " 

Hearing  these  words  of  the  Bedouin,  the  young  man  said : 
"  What  could  I  do?  For  the  one  called  Hatim-Thai  is  I.  The 
head  that  the  King  of  Yemen  wants  is  mine.  What  other 
means  could  I  employ  ?  "  He  conducted  the  Bedouin  to  his 
house,  regaled  him  again,  and  gave  him  all  he  needed. 

Then  the  Bedouin  took  leave  and  returned  to  his  country. 
As  soon  as  he  arrived  in  Yemen,  he  went  before  the  King  and 
recounted  all  the  circumstances  relative  to  Hatim-Thai. 

Having  heard  the  story  the  King  shed  tears,  and  said :  "  Of 
a  truth,  Hatim-Thai  is  liberal,  benevolent,  and  noble,  brave 
and  generous."  Afterward  the  King  of  Yemen  made  a  friend- 
ship with  Hatim-Thai  that  lasted  as  long  as  his  life. 

When  the  Sultan  Yakoub  invaded  Khorassan  and  be- 
sieged the  capital,  the  Sultan  Mahomet,  shut  up  in  the  city, 
made  such  a  strong  resistance  that  for  a  long  time  it  was  im- 
possible to  capture  the  place.  But  his  ministers  betrayed  him 
by  sending  to  Sultan  Yakoub  letters  which  showed  how  it 
might  be  taken.  One  only  of  these  ministers,  named  Ibrahim 
Hadjib,  abstained  from  sending  any  traitorous  letters,  and  re- 
mained faithful  to  his  master.  After  a  while  the  city  was  taken 
and  Sultan  Yakoub  ascended  the  throne.  Then  all  the  most 
important  people  of  the  country  came  to  pay  homage  to  him. 
The  ministers  who  had  betrayed  the  former  Sultan  were  con- 
spicuous in  their  demonstrations  of  joy.  The  Sultan  Yakoub 
gave  a  pleasant  reception  to  those  who  came,  and  made  them 
suitable  gifts. 

After  this  he  asked,  "  Who  has  not  come  to  present  himself 
before  me  on  this  day  of  rejoicing?" 

The  ministers  immediately  answered,  "  Ibrahim  Hadjib  is 
the  only  one  who  has  not  come  to  present  his  congratula- 
tions." 

Then  the  Sultan  asked,  "  Why  has  he  not  done  so  ?  Is  he 
ill?" 

"  No,"  they  answered,  "  he  is  not  ill." 

The  Sultan  summoned  Ibrahim  Hadjib,  and  the  latter  came 
into  the  royal  presence.  The  Sultan,  observing  on  his  coun- 


1 90  MALAYAN    LITERATURE 

tenance  evident  marks  of  care  and  sorrow,  spoke  thus  to  him : 
"  Ibrahim  Hadjib,  are  you  the  minister  in  whom  the  Sultan 
Mahomet  placed  his  confidence  ?  "  He  replied  in  the  affirma- 
tive. 

"  From  what  motive,  Ibrahim  Hadjib,  did  you  keep  silence, 
and  send  me  no  word  of  advice  while  the  ministers  of  Sultan 
Mahomet,  now  here,  sent  many  letters  to  show  me  how  to 
capture  the  city  ?  Why  did  you  refrain  from  appearing  before 
me  at  court  to-day,  at  the  same  time  with  the  ministers  and 
grandees  ?  Why,  now  that  you  are  here,  are  you  the  only  one 
to  wear  a  sad  and  mournful  appearance  and  a  long  face,  while 
all  the  others  show  their  joy?  To  all  these  questions  you 
must  truthfully  respond.  And  if  you  speak  not  the  truth  you 
shall  be  put  to  death." 

"  If  the  Sultan  wishes  to  hear  the  language  of  truth  and 
will  not  be  vexed  by  it,  I  will  reply  to  each  of  his  questions. 
To  the  first  question,  why  I  sent  no  letter  betraying  my  King, 
I  will  say :  Know,  Sultan,  that  the  Sultan  Mahomet  was  the 
King  of  this  country ;  that  he  gave  me  many  presents  and  had 
full  confidence  in  me,  thinking  that  in  the  moment  of  danger 
I  would  be  his  companion  and  his  counsellor.  How  could  I, 
then,  betray  him  ?  I  knew  you  not,  and  had  received  no  bene- 
fits from  you.  Would  it  have  been  just  for  me  to  send  you 
letters  and  cause  the  fall  of  one  who  had  been  so  bountiful 
to  me?" 

"  Your  words  are  just  and  true,"  said  the  Sultan  Yakoub. 

Ibrahim  Hadjib  continued :  "  As  to  the  question  why  I 
abstained  from  presenting  myself  at  court  to-day,  and  why 
I  wore  so  sorrowful  a  face,  I  answer :  Know  that  I  could  not 
present  myself  before  the  Sultan,  because  he  was  the  enemy 
of  my  master  and  benefactor,  and  brought  about  the  ruin  of 
my  lord.  That  is  why  I  wore  a  sad  face  in  your  presence. 
Beside,  the  children  and  grandchildren  of  my  lord  are  plunged 
in  grief  and  anxiety,  and  how  could  I  be  happy  in  your  pres- 
ence, like  these  hypocrites,  who  are  very  different  elsewhere? 
I  have  told  the  truth." 

When  the  Sultan  Yakoub  had  heard  these  words  of  Ibrahim 
Hadjib,  he  cried :  "  God  be  praised !  Up  to  this  time  I  have 
heard  tell  of  ministers,  I  have  seen  many  kinds,  but  never 
have  I  seen  nor  heard  of  a  minister  like  this  one.  Now,  only 


MAKOTA    RADJA-RADJA  19  x 

for  the  first  time  have  I  seen  a  true  minister  and  listened  to 
the  words  of  truth."  The  Sultan  Yakoub  loaded  Ibrahim 
Hadjib  with  favors,  made  him  prime  minister,  and  gave  him 
the  name  of  father.  As  for  the  other  ministers,  he  caused 
them  to  perish,  with  their  whole  families.  Then  he  published 
this  proclamation: 

"  Behold  the  fate  of  those  who  are  faithless  to  their  prom- 
ises and  commit  treason  toward  their  King,  for  they  cannot  be 
counted  as  men." 


28791 


A     000717867     6 


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